


The Graveyards Must Be Full

by Madziedaft89



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madziedaft89/pseuds/Madziedaft89
Summary: "I have shed my skin so many times. The graveyards must be full of all the people I used to be." - David JonesThe woman looks up, past the barrel of the gun and straight into Andy’s determined gaze. “You know, I believe you really mean that.” Her voice lilting and breezy.“One.”The woman gives her nothing.“Two.” She cocks the gun and the woman’s eyes squint ever so slightly“Thr-““Alright.” The woman says, exasperated, just as Andy had felt herself start to squeeze the trigger, “Alright.” She lowers the gun to her side. She doesn’t remove her finger from the trigger.“You would’ve been instructed to locate and kill the head of a drug smuggling ring or some big-bad criminal I assume?” She doesn’t wait for response. “This was a lie. You were commissioned by a ghost. A figment. This person, or the threat you are chasing doesn’t exist. It is only me,” Her eyes seem to get a faraway look in them, “but I suppose that depends what your idea of a threat is.” She says almost to herself.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Original Character(s), Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 127





	1. Andy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything like this. It's going to have everyone it in and i hope to build an interesting and layered story. Any comments or feedback are so welcome :)

Andy didn’t like this job from the moment Copley mentioned it. He would usually give them the choice of four or five and they discuss them all. As with most things, Andy has the final word. She’d chosen this one because it had been children. Human trafficking is abominable and shed gladly kill any and all men and women involved with it. Children deserve nothing of the dark and terrible things of this world.

So she agreed.

With the Intel given to him Copley explained that one of the so-called Boss’ of this the sickening organisation was laying low in a small village south of Tangier. So they went. It took one week to prepare. There was no description but they had enough to go on with the apartment building and door number.

It didn’t feel right from the start. Andy had this feeling in her gut that had been right too many times to ignore.

This was a small apartment complex - discreet. The small entry gate was laying open and the little tiled courtyard was visible from the street. Anyone could walk in. There were at least four exits to the building that she could see so they all have to make their way in separately and convene out side the apartment that this scumbag was holed up in on the second floor. Its five apartments per floor, _too many_. Luckily they didn’t run into any civilians.

Andy and Joe make it silently to the door first. Joe positions himself in front of it, Andy crouched behind him. Gun ready. Followed closely by Nile and Booker who approach from the opposite side. Nicky comes behind Joe and she gave the word.

Joe prepared himself, waiting for Andy’s nod to kick the door in. Just as he took a deep breath the door opened catching him by surprise, he raised his shotgun to her head. They all stand to attention and point their weapons inside.

Standing there, was a petite blonde holding a coffee cup in one hand and the door in the other. She couldn’t have been more than 25? 30? She was dressed casually in a jeans and t-shirt and sneakers. Her eyes scanned them all resting individually on each of their faces. She did not flinch. Her blue eyes skimming over them, taking in their black combat gear and glocks aim directly at the head and chest.

Andy glanced to either side of her, saw her family for once dumbfounded. _Had they made a mistake? This was the apartment specified in the report. Had Copley betrayed them again – a set up?_ Her mind was going through all these options in the two seconds it took for the blonde to speak.

“Are you all going to come inside, or would you prefer my neighbours to see you and call the riot police?” As she spoke in flawless French, she brought the cup to her mouth and took a sip of the steaming coffee. Her eyes never left them. She stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. She appeared calm and composed, as if five people pointing guns into her face was a regular occurrence. 

Andy for some reason thought of Nicky. _Careful, Deadly._ She had the bad feeling again. 

She took a step into the apartment. The rest followed behind her. Andy cautiously spun around to keep this woman in view.

The studio apartment was small but clean. Bare floorboards covered with small woven rugs to keep the chill away. There were books lining the shelves to the ceiling on one side, near the far corner, next a window, was a beat-up brown leather armchair. _She reads there_ , Andy thinks. The small bed in the corner was made and a desk was pressed into the small space on the opposite wall. It had two laptops open, a small table lamp illuminated the room. The early morning light filtered in and highlighted the dust falling through the air. When they were all inside, warily creating a semi-circle. Booker and Nile on one side and Joe and Nicky, always together on the other. Ready to protect Andy should she have made the wrong decision.

The stranger closed the door and turned to face them. She assessed them then took a step into the make shift circle. “You look expensive.” She said, again in French. That caught Andy by surprise. _Expensive?_ She took another sip of the coffee, her other hand slipped into her front jeans pocket. _Was this woman for real? She’s been alive for a long time but she’s never witnessed someone act like this. This was stra-_

“Who are you?” The woman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, she was looking Andy dead in the eyes, “I mean I know your mercenaries but if you’re hear to take me back I’d at least like to know the names of my captors.” There was a small sad smile that crossed her face momentarily.

“Were not here to capture you.” Booker replied in French, “We’ve been hired to kill the person who is staying in this apartment.” He adds softly, hope in his voice that she’ll say she just moved in or that the gravity of her situation will hit her, “How long have you been here?” he asked.

“I’ve been here for nearly a year, and I believe it was empty for a while before that.” Her eyes were concentrated on Booker, the exchange in French followed by everyone in the room except Nile. Her eyes glancing to Andy to try and figure out if she should be nervous or not.

“what the hell is going on?” Nile whispers to Andy.

“American?” The woman asks in English, surprised. “Apologies I just assumed.” She smiled at Nile, honest to God _smiled._ “How long have you been tracking me?” She now asked in English. Her accent is hard to place. She sounds British but tinged with something else.

“We got the information a week ago.” Nicky replies, his careful eyes scanning the room. Uneasy with how long this is taking. “We should go boss. Something isn’t right.” He says to Andy in old Italian 

“I agree.” Andy replies then switches to English, “Who would want to kill you?”

“Who indeed,” says the woman, switching to Italian. Not the old dialect she and Nicky had used but a clear message she had understood the gist of what they had said. _This woman is tricky._ The woman makes her ways forward her coffee cup still in her hands she gestures to the window. They all tense around Andy, fingers poised on triggers waiting for an attack that never comes.

As the woman walks to the window, she stops just beside Andy, “You should leave.” Its almost a whisper. Like she’s tempting fate by saying it, then she glances down to the street. Deserted save for one or two passing taxis. Everyone has started their workday and this part of the city is mainly residential. She places her coffee cup on the windowsill and turns. She passes through Andy and Nile, her shoulder brushing Nile’s. She shoots her a look from the corner of her eye.

She sits herself gently into the armchair. Andy must be looking at her like she has two-heads because the woman has a glint in her eye. She’s staring up at them. “We should go.” Nicky says finally in English. She can hear Nile let out a breath, “We should reconvene with Copley. Find out what the fuck is going on.” Joe adds.

“I’d estimate that you have approximately six minutes. You should get a move on.” The woman speaks to Andy in French, dragging her attention back to her. _What the fuck is this feeling?_

Booker is shifting his feet, he’s nervous, “We need to go boss, I’ve got a bad feeling.” He’s clutching his gun in both hands and his eyes keep darting to the woman in the chair.

She looked over to him, her face serene, “You weren’t hired to kill me. You were hired to find me.” Answering as though he had asked her what she’d like to eat for lunch. Sitting with her legs crossed in the old leather armchair in the corner of the makeshift living area you would think she was entertaining guests and not five immortal mercenaries armed to the teeth.

_There is something odd about her_ , she thinks. She is not worried or uneasy. She thinks she looks like she’s trying to be patient, as one would do with a small child. “The person who hired you knew most probably that a single _missing_ woman was likely well below your paygrade. I imagine a simple locate and grab would unlikely interest you.” She arched an eyebrow to Booker who quickly glanced away.

“No, believe me, we were told to kill you.” Nile chimed in, looking nervously to Andy who still hadn’t said anything.

“Then all I can gather from that is that you are bad at your jobs.” The corners of her mouth perked up, pleased with her little joke.

_Arrogant._ Andy was in front of her in one long stride; her semi-automatic handgun pointed directly between the blonde woman’s eyes. “I’m going to count to three, and unless you give me a reason not to, I’m going to kill you.”

The woman looks up, past the barrel of the gun and straight into Andy’s determined gaze. “You know, I believe you really _mean_ that.” Her voice lilting and breezy.

“One.”

The woman gives her nothing.

“Two.” She cocks the gun and the woman’s eyes squint ever so slightly

“Thr-“

“Alright.” The woman says, exasperated, just as Andy had felt herself start to squeeze the trigger, “ _Alright.”_ She lowers the gun to her side. She doesn’t remove her finger from the trigger.

“You would’ve been instructed to locate and kill the head of a drug smuggling ring or some big-bad criminal I assume?” She doesn’t wait for response. “This was a lie. You were commissioned by a ghost. A figment. This person, or the threat you are chasing doesn’t exist. It is only me,” Her eyes seem to get a faraway look in them, “but I suppose that depends what your idea of a _threat_ is.” She says almost to herself.

“Why would someone want to find you?” Nicky asks, his voice is low and steady.

“The why is often not as important as the _who.”_ Her eyes have still not left Andy’s. “My name is Violet Mitrovic. My husband is an extremely dangerous man from whom I have been running for a _very_ long time.” She looks to Nicky, “And, I believe, you have just led the wolf straight to my door, so to speak.” She leans back in her chair, each hand resting on arm.

“I have known many dangerous men, three of them are standing behind me right now.” Joe and Nicky glance at each other, small smiles on their faces. Booker keeps his head down, a small puff of air escaping through his nose. “Why would your husband go to so much trouble to find you?”

“Because of what I have.” Her chin tilted up, challenging Andy to ask. _Daring her._

“And what do you have?”

“Memory.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to me- “

Andy hears footfalls running up stairs. A lot of them. _Is this a set-up?_

“That’ll be the wolves now.” Violet says to no one in particular, drawing Andy’s attention back to the here and now. Booker moves to the window, “I can’t see anyone. One possible unmarked van just below, no one is covering the street.”

She hears boots, heavy boots running as silently as they could along the narrow hallway. Both sides of the door would be covered. _Fucking amateurs. All this racket and now they stop?_

Silence.

Andy knew what was about to happen, the men, however many, were poised and ready either side of the doorway. Awaiting the command they needed to breach. She turned. Forgetting the woman still seated and finally raised her gun towards the entrance of the small studio apartment. Everyone followed suit. The seconds felt like minutes as they ticked. The waiting was the worst. She _hates_ waiting.

She almost had to stop herself from marching toward the door just to yank it open and show these motherfuckers exactly how _much_ she hates it. Then she hears footsteps. Lone footsteps. Unhurried, like someone strolling through a park.

They come along the hallway and they stop directly in front of the doorway. Two shadows of shoes visible from under the doorway. She could just _squeeze_ the trigger. The bullet would surely go straight through and hit the target. At least then it would get things moving.

Three loud knocks ring out through the small room.

Nicky and Joe look to each other. Nicky’s eyes are bright and filled with a question. Joe knows and gives his love a small shrug in response, unsure of what the actual fuck is happening. He glances back to Andy and she does the same.

They’ve been double-crossed before. The memories of being strapped to tables are still vivid and they know how far they’d go to stop that happening again. _Not enough exits. Not enough options. Not enough time._

“I’m coming in.” A male voice carried through the door. “If you shoot me, I guarantee you none of you will leave here alive” All of them braced themselves. Nile took a step to the right and positioned herself slightly in front of Andy.

The door handle turned and swung open. The hinges protesting on their way to hitting the wall. He steps into the room. Everyone seems to be holding their breath.

The man is tall, Andy thinks maybe six-three. His black hair is slicked back and he has a small scar cutting his left eyebrow in half. His eyes are crystal grey and they assess everyone in the room. He’s wearing an expensive black suite with Italian loafers and his peacoat probably cost more than was seen as acceptable to spend on a single item.

His gaze glided from the two men standing either side of him, guns trained to his head. Unconcerned he took a step, then another. Standing in the centre of the room he look directly at Andy. Her gun is aimed at his chest and he has a small smile playing at his lips.

“I do apologise to barge in on you like this but I believe you have something I want.” His deep voice is thick with an accent. _Russian? No, Serbian._ He cocks his head slightly to the side as he looks almost through her to the blonde woman sitting in the chair behind her. Andy can’t help herself and turns and takes a small step back to allow this man through.

He stands in front of the woman, Violet, meets his eyes with a defiant look. Her legs are still crossed and her hands have not moved from the arms of the chair. He sweeps his eyes from her face down her body to the tips of her shoes. The look on his face tells Andy that he’s not too pleased with this woman.

Everyone is now lowering their guns, all of them with their eyes focused on the man’s back. Andy’s eyes are darting back and forth from the man to the small woman in the chair.

“Zdravo, cveto. _Hello, flower._ ” He smiles, he seems a bit breathless. He is trying to keep a lid on his emotions, she thinks.

“Hello, David.”

“Da li sam ti nedostajao? _Did you miss me?_ ” If this was under any other circumstances she’d say he almost looks hopeful, but the cruel glint in his eyes and the flash of teeth give him away.

_Wolf._

“Like a hole in the head.” She says it whilst smiling sweetly up at him. He lets out a huff of a laugh but it doesn’t touch his eyes. He reaches and grabs her forearm, too rough for it to be a casual gesture and yanks her to her feet. Andy flinches and remembers to relax her trigger finger. It would not do now to let things get out of hand.

He stands a full head above the blonde and he holds her chin with his right hand. His grip is firm and he searches her face, flicking to her mouth. Violet licks her lips on instinct. His thumb brushes along her jaw and then up and over her bottom lip.

Her lips are slightly parted and he tries to gently dip his thumb inside her mouth, but before he can she clamps her teeth down on the tip and bites him. _Good girl,_ Andy thinks. She really does not like this guy and if she’s honest she’s weighing up her options on just fucking shooting him.

He jerks his hand away, “jebeni pakao! _Fucking hell_!” He lets out a laugh and she sees excitement in his eyes. “Mikail!” he shouts over his shoulder. An older man comes into the room. He has greasy hair stuck to his head and bulbous nose and a beat-up leather bomber jacket. “Odvedi je do čamca i očisti je. _Take her to the boat and get her cleaned up_.” David doesn’t look at him when he speaks, “neko nabavi kompjutere _Someone get the Computers.”_ He barks. Andy thinks this asshole is used to snapping his fingers and getting what he wants. She does not blame this woman for running for the hills.

“I reci Markusu da želi da zapali zgradu. _And tell Markus that he’s to torch the building.”_ Without another word he turns them both and hurls her at Mikail who’s waiting with eager hands. Violet doesn’t glance at Andy, but she notes that the woman’s eyes dart to Booker behind her.

The greaseball takes her and man-handles her out the door and down the corridor. She leaves without a word, Andy notes that she is dragging her feet slightly. _No need to make it too easy for them._

Nicky, Joe, Booker and Nile are all looking at Andy as she is looking at this man in front of her. Waiting for her to give them an inkling as to what she wants to do. She knows they will follow her lead. Any one of them ready to die over and over again to protect her. Her finger twitches on the trigger. _It would be easy to do. They could get out of this. How many armed knuckleheads could possibly be out there, 10? Book said there was only one van, didn’t he?_

Once the woman was gone, he turned to Andy, “I am sorry for all of the inconvenience caused to you and your crew. Please accept my apologies.” Gestured with a half bow and a hand to his chest as gesture of his feigned regret.

Andy wanted to kick him through the wall.

“Who the fuck are you?” Andy has killed better men that this one.

“My name is David Mitrovic. I was the one who hired you and your Mr Copley to find my darling wife.” He turned on his heels as he said it, as though explaining it to them is an afterthought. 

As he was walking out the door, giving brief glances to Nile, Joe and then Nicky, he turned just as he reached the doorway. “Your payment will be sent within the hour. Along with a bonus for intervening. You understand I couldn’t risk you actually harming her.” His eyes glanced towards Booker at the window. A strange look passes over his face.

“I would leave quickly if I were you. Markus does tend to be over-eager with the explosives.” He winks and leaves without another word and just as quickly as his armed goons came in they left. Andy could hear a van door from the street. The wheels of a too heavy van making a speedy getaway.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As they sat in the van on their way to the safe house an uneasy feeling came over Andy. Joe was driving with Nile upfront with him. Nicky was next to her and Booker was on the other side by himself. Not forgiven quit yet. Not asking for anymore than they were willing to give.

“What do you think, Boss?” Asked Booker, his elbows leaning on his knees.

_She should be relieved, shouldn’t she? The job was done. A success. No one in her family was hurt. Hell, there wasn’t even a shot fired. They got paid their due, like he said, and there were zero casualties._

She couldn’t shake this fucking feeling. _What was it? Was it the girl? She had seemed capable enough. Smart enough to run and stay hidden, only with Copley and Booker searching for her did they find her and even then it was a fucking cell phone photo. Dumb luck_.

_Did dumb luck sentence a woman to something so terrible she’d take her chances running with absolutely nothing?_

What was it she said, _Memory? What the fuck did that mean?_

Booker was still looking at her, Nicky had turned his head too. She looked and caught Joe glancing from the rear-view mirror. She didn’t need to see that Nile was waiting for her response too.

“I want to know everything about this fucking guy, Mitrovic.” Booker nods once and gets his laptop out from underneath the bench.

_My husband is an extremely dangerous man._

Let’s just fucking see about that.


	2. Nicky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that same afternoon...

They had been in the safehouse for about thirty minutes. Once Bookers initial search had turned up nothing, Booker and Andromache had video-called with Copley, there is no time difference between here and the UK so he said he’d start looking into this _David Mitrovic_ straight away.

Everyone took turns to use the small shower. Nicky had gone first, showering alone, much to Joes obvious disappointment. They gather in the small kitchenette. Nicky thinks he’s fairly sure they haven’t been here since 1982, or was it 83? Andy and Booker are sitting on opposite sides of the small wooden table, a laptop between them. Nile is leaning against the counter in the middle of them. Watching the back-and-forth that has been going on for a while now.

They have been discussing the woman since before he went to wash up.

“So you’re telling me you have _no idea_ what the fuck his wife was doing in Tangier?” Andy asks, her hands held out to Booker, pleading him for any information, “

“I told you boss, the only reason we got a hit on her was because of the photo, look.” Booker spun the laptop around to show Andy the image. Nicky walked up behind her, leaning on the back of her chair. The photo is of a brunette woman with large dark sunglasses, she is sitting in a small café pointing proudly at a tagine. _Tourist._

In the background Nicky can make out the woman at the table behind, “There boss.” He points. He leans over her shoulder and drags his finger across the mouse-pad and zooms into the section until she’s visible.

It is much quicker for Nicky do it himself. Andy never really caught up with technology past the record player, hence why she still uses a flip-phone.

The picture is grainy, he cleans it up until she becomes clearer. He sees her then, unmistakably the young woman they came across in the apartment. Her pale blonde hair reaching below her shoulders, her hands placed on top of a book on the table where she was reading. A small glass of red wine, half finished.

She is attractive, even _he_ could see that. _Though no one compared to his Joe._

Anyone passing by would think her a lone woman on holiday, perhaps taking in the sights. Nicky cannot really pay attention to anything other than the strange look on the woman’s face. She is staring right at the camera, boldly, clearly very aware of her photograph being taken.

Her gaze steady and clear. The blue of her eyes accentuated by the colour of her top. Her mouth is perked up slightly at the corners in an almost sly smile. Her head is held high and Nicky recognises the same defiance that he witnessed when the man, her _Husband_ , had tried to touch her against her will.

This was not the face of someone on the run. This was a bold and rebellious woman. This wasn’t a someone hiding in the shadows, scared for her life. This woman is sending a clear message for any and all who may be listening.

_Come and get me._

“That doesn’t look like someone who is caught unawares, Boss.” Nicky voiced.

“No,” Andy says wistfully, “it doesn’t, does it?” Andy leans in towards the screen. Nile has since joined them. All three of them staring into the face of this woman, this _Violet_. “Is there anyway to tell when this photo was taken?” Andy asks, her face craning up to Nicky.

“Yes, sure boss.” He right clicks and looks at the information. “This was taken nine days ago.”

“ _Nine days?_ “Andy barks. Nicky and Nile both look to each other and then both to Booker as Andy turns back to the screen. She rests her elbows on the table, eyebrows furrowed deep in thought.

Nicky remembers, “Didn’t she say she had been there a year?”

“Yeah, she said she had been running for a while before that too.” Andy replied

“Its strange, isn’t it?” offered Nile

“How so?” asked Nicky.

“She runs and successfully eludes an asshole for who knows how long. Then this photo appears and what, _two days_ _later,_ we get a job to find and terminate some master-mind of a known criminal organisation?” She says it like it should be obvious. The three of them stare at her. “You don’t think it’s a _little_ coincidental?” She says disbelieving.

Andy looked from the screen to Nile and seemed like she was about to say something when Joe chimed in from just behind Nicky. “She looks like the cat that’s got the cream.” Joe says around a mouth full of cereal. He is standing to Nicky’s left holding a bowl and shovelling another spoonful of dried raisin bran into his mouth. Nicky wonders why he does not just sit at the table, but soon realises that the only other chair is seated next to Booker. Joe is a kind man, but his forgiveness is not easily earned.

Nicky straightens up, “She knew her photo was being taken.”

“Yeah, she did.” Andy is sitting with her hands clasped under her chin as if in prayer.

“So, she knows she’s been made -” stated Joe, finishing the last of his cereal and heading to the small sink to wash up.

“It would explain why she wasn’t surprised to see us, Boss. She knew someone would be coming for her” Nicky finished Joes thought.

“We all know how hard it is to disappear with the way the world is today” Andy says to no one in particular, “But this woman,” she says whilst pointing to the photo, “manages to evade not just her husband but the whole fucking world. There’s _no_ record of her anywhere. On any system. She doesn’t exist.” She leans in as if hoping the image would give her some new piece of information.

“How could someone do that?” Nile asks Booker.

Booker blows a breath out searching for the words, “It would take a _lot._ You would have to know exactly what you were looking for. To get access to government databases; to delete or omit birth records, passports, Visas, to get through borders undetected. Travel is almost non-existent without documentation, so then you have to know how to falsify those documents. There is too much for one person. It - It would be exhausting.” He finishes with a far off look on his face. “Maybe,” he added, “maybe she was just tired of running,” offered Booker, “maybe she ran out of places to go.” He sighed and sat back into the small metal chair. His arms folding over his chest.

Nicky doesn’t recognise the look on Bookers face. He wonders sometimes how much of Booker’s true self he has seen. He would never have dreamed that Booker would have been so unhappy that he would put his family in danger the way he had with Merrick.

There was a time when Nicky would have bet anything on knowing what he was thinking or feeling. But now, it feels like he might never know again. He misses him. Misses Booker. Nicky glances up and sees Joe looking at him, drying the small bowl with a towel in his hands. A gentle look on his face. He knows what Nicky’s thinking about, Booker. He knows because Joe misses him too. The brother Joe longed for and finally got, only to be taken away by his own “pathetic selfishness”.

He turns and puts the bowl into the cabinet above the sink. His arm stretches and the bottom of his grey t- shirt lifts, showing a small sliver of dark skin. Nicky has always loved Joes back. His strong shoulders tapering down into a narrow waist, to his firm ass and strong legs. The shirt he’s wearing does nothing to accentuate the defined muscles.

They haven’t been alone together for over a week now. He feels it whenever he stares at Joe for too long. Or when Joe laughs. Or when Joe groans deep from the back of his throat. _He wants him._

His thoughts must’ve been plain on his face because as Joe turns around he and Nicky lock eyes and there is a knowing gleam staring back at him. Joe leans casually back against the sink. He slowly looks Nicky up and down. Joe pulls his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth and _hand to god_ Nicky almost moans.

Joe pushes himself up and away from the counter and grabs his jacket from one of the hooks on the wall by the door. Everyone else around the computer looks to Joe, curious at the sudden movement.

Only Booker stays as he was. Joe would not look at him anyway.

“You know, there’s not a thing to eat in this place.” He says over his shoulder, shuffling into his jacket, “I spotted a supermarket about 2 miles away, I’ll go get some supplies.” Joe is halfway out the door when he stops and turns, “Nicolo, vuoi unirti a me _? Want to join me?”_ He stands leaning against the doorframe, innocence personified, and Nicky forgets how to speak, a beat passes and he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. “Well?” Joe presses.

“Yes,” his voice is hoarse to his own ears and he can see Andy look at him from the corner of his eye. He clears his throat and tries again, “Yes, I want to get some things.” He moves a little faster than is necessary shoving sneakers onto his feet and forcing his head and arms into one of Joes thin hoodies. He doesn’t look at Joe as he passes. He can _feel_ his grin.

Nicky huffs and makes his way out into the small alleyway where the van is parked, it is not too late in the day but, given the time of year, the sun is low. The door is unlocked, and Nicky gets into the passenger seat as Joe get ins puts his seatbelt on and starts the engine. Nicky doesn’t put his seatbelt on.

Nicky is looking at the small houses. Flowers and plants in windows. People like to sit out the front of their homes here. They talk away the evening light with their neighbours. Nicky likes that. The community.

He notices that Joe makes a right turn when he should’ve made a left, then further down the small road they come to a dead end. The van is blocked on three sides either side by two buildings. Nicky wouldn’t be able to open his door without risk of damaging it, and the tall wall in front of them.

_Nowhere to go_.

Nicky turns to Joe who has turned the ignition off and unclipped his seatbelt. He leans his head back against the headrest, his eyes shut taking a deep breath, “One hundred and eighty seven hours.” He says as though muttering to himself.

Nicky frowns, “Che vuoi dire? _What do you mean?”_

“I have been _hungry_ for one hundred and eighty seven hours.” He says, his voice even and matter of fact, his eyes are still closed.

Nicky does not understand. He just watched Joe eat a bowl of cereal not fifteen minutes ago, “If you are hungry then we will get you something to eat. Come lets go to the market and I can get the things to make the pancakes you like.” Nicky admits he is a little disappointed. He had images of unzipping Joes jeans, right here in the car, and taking him into his mouth. Joe would tangle his strong hands in is hair as Nicky wrung the pleasure out of him.

_Not now,_ Joe was unhappy, and it was in Nicky’s power to change it.

Joe huffs out a strained laugh.

“ _Nicolo..”_ Joe whines, “Non ho fame di _frittelle_. _I am not hungry for pancakes”_ he says as he turns his head to look at him, His dark eyes have a fire behind them and Nicky feels the heat from his gaze pool in his belly. “Otto giorni, Nicolo. _Eight days, Nicolo.”_ Joe knows how much he loves him using his full name. His true name. The one he used when he gasped and panted into his ear when it was just them, alone in the desert. Only the warmth of their bodies and their small fire keeping them from the cold.

_Eight days ago_ , he remembers.

Another hotel room. Joe kneeling behind him, one hand gripped hard on his hip the other flat between his shoulders pushing him down on the bed as he pounded into him. Relentless. Joe’s roughness only sending him closer and closer to the edge. He came with his face buried in the mattress and Joe had roared as his climax took him.

Nicky swore he could still feel him.

Joe reached underneath and pulled the catch to move his seat backwards, then before Nicky could think Joes hands were bunched into his hoodie and he pulled Nicky towards him crashing their mouths together. Nicky reels from the need, his head swimming. It’s all tongues and teeth clashing. Joe moans into Nicky’s mouth and it goes straight to his cock.

_He needs more._

“Più vicini. _Closer.”_ Nicky pants into Joes mouth.

Nicky pulls back and pushes Joe lightly, giving him a bit of space. Joe makes a small whimper; Nicky thinks he looks obscene. His lips are swollen bruised dark red and his hair is a mess. _He loves him._ Joe’s looking at Nicky like he wants to devour him. With harsh breath Nicky, very awkwardly, scrambles his way over the gear stick. Joe catches on and eagerly shrugs his jacket from his arms, leaving it a bunched mess at the bottom of his back. Nicky manages to somehow fit his thighs on either side of Joes legs, and he wishes to god he had wore sweatpants instead of jeans.

Joes hands are everywhere, urgent, up his back, touching skin, in his hair. Nicky grasps Joes face and kisses him, licking into his mouth like he is the only thing keeping him alive. Grabbing and pulling and Nicky feels Joes hard cock press against him, with a roll of his hips Joe gasps into his mouth and he thinks he could come just from that sound.

Joes pulls his mouth from Nicky’s, both his hand holding his face an inch from his own, his voice is harsh and breathless, “Vedi? Vedi le cose che mi fai? _You see? You see the things you do to me?”_ And Nicky does, because Joe does the same to him.

“Toccami, Nicolo, per favore prima di morire. Toccami. Per favore. _Touch me, Nicolo, please before I die. Touch me. Please.”_ Joes voice is thick with need

_Dramatic fool,_ he thinks. He moves his hands down to Joes pants. The button and zip giving way easily under his skilled hands. Joe’s hard cock releases itself and hits against his belly.

_Joe is not wearing underwear_.

Nicky looks from Joes straining cock back to his face, sweat beading on his forehead, his mouth parted and panting. “You planned this.” Nicky says. It is not a question.

“In the shower.” Joe replies, and Nicky gently wraps his fingers around Joes cock, thumbing over the leaking head, wiping pre cum underneath, following the vein that he knows is there. His tongue having worshipped it enough times.

Joe hisses and his head falls back and the long line of his throat is revealed to Nicky. His eyes are screwed shut and his hands dig into the soft flesh of Nicky’s thighs.

_This man,_ he thinks, _this man is mine._

Nicky works him slowly, the precum giving enough glide so as not to snag skin.

He loves seeing Joe like this.

Nicky places his other hand on the seat just behind Joes shoulder, he leans in and licks up the side of his exposed neck and lightly bites his earlobe, his hand never halting its achingly slow torture, “Sei molto presuntuoso. _You are very presumptuous._ ” Nicky keeps his voice low and breathy against Joes ear. The puff of his breath causing Joe to shiver.

Nicky relishes in the power he has over this man. _His_ man. His _love._ Nicky expects him to make some smart-ass quip about him being a sure-thing but Joe makes an almost wounded sound in the back of his throat when Nicky runs the pad of his thumb along the slit of Joes cock.

_“Di più, Nicky. Ne ho bisogno di più. More, Nicky. I need more.”_ Joe almost sobs as he opens his eyes to look at him. He’s desperate, _good._

Joes fingers are like a vice grip on Nicky’s thighs. Nicky still slowly working up and down his shaft at an achingly slow pace that causes Joes hips to stutter each time he glides his thumb over the head of his thick cock.

”Nicolo…” Joe pleads, “Please..” _Begging._

_Joe’s not playing fair._

Nicky licks his lips and leans in, “Puoi venire così. _You can come like this_.” Joe seems to shake his head. “Ricordate, com'era all'inizio? _Remember, what it was like in the beginning?_ ” He breaths against Joes mouth and he feels him shiver. _He’s close, “_ Proprio così. _Just like this_.” Nicky’s voice is barely audible over Joe’s harsh breathing. His moves his hand with more urgency, his grip around Joes cock tightening.

Nicky places a wet open mouth kiss to Joes neck and sucks hard. Joe arches his back and into Nicky and he reels from it. Joe tastes of sandalwood and sweat. He wishes the bruise would linger but he knows from experience its already disappearing.

Joe is really moving now. His hips pumping harder causing Nicky to grind into his lap. His own erection brought back to the forefront of his mind. As they push against eachother Nicky’s hand jerks more wildly around Joes cock, their slow rhythm lost to the feeling of eachother.

Joe grabs his back, his fists grabbing handfuls of fabric and buries his face into the crook of Nicky’s neck.

Nicky bites down on the soft spot under Joes ear as he pumps him. Joe groans brazenly into his neck as his hips stutter. Nicky knows how close he his. He pumps once more and squeezes the head of his heavy cock. Joe bites his neck as his seed erupts up onto Nicky’s hand and onto their stomachs. Joe groans shamelessly and Nicky moans his own need. Joes hips still grinding against his hard body as he rides out the glorious aftershocks.

They stay like that for a few moments, the only sound is of their harsh breathing. The day had been humid and the air is close in the confines of the van. Nicky releases Joes wilting cock and gently wipes his hand on his own thigh and rests it there. Joe tilts his head, his hands still pressing against Nicky’s back.

Nicky leans back and Joe catches his mouth in a slow, lazy kiss. Their tongues working together effortlessly, Nicky’s moves his hands to gently cradle Joes face.

Joe breaks the kiss with a shaky breath. He looks at Nicky like he hung the moon. Nicky can feel his cheeks colouring with the way Joe is gazing at him.

“Sai cosa sei per me? _Do you know what you are to me?”_ Joes voice is soft. His hand goes to Nicky’s cheek as he barely grazes his fingertips over his cheekbone, Joe’s gaze follows their trail down to Nickys lips, his chin, his throat then finally down his chest. His hand stills and rests above Nicky’s heart. “Sei tutto, Nicolo. _You’re everything, Nicolo_.” His voice barely audible.

Nicky is taken aback by the overwhelming feeling of love he has for this man. It blooms in his chest and grows so intense he feels he may burst with it.

Joe’s hand and eyes start to move again, lower. He skims his fingers over his stomach, his own seed still wet and glistening on his (Joe’s) sweater. He looks up at Nicky, a cheeky glint in his eye, “Y’know I liked this hoodie.” He says with a lopsided grin. Nicky hums in acknowledgment, he doesn’t trust himself to speak. His erection was waning but with Joe looking at him like that he can feel himself getting hard again.

Joe looks down again, he palms against the bulge in Nickys pants that makes Nicky moan low and deep in his throat, he leans his head back and relishes the feeling of Joes attention. 

Joe swears under his breath. Nicky’s lips twitch into a smile.

“What do you want my love?” Joe asks his hand kneading his dick harder now, making him squirm and grind into his palm.

“Bocca. _Mouth”_ Nicky wants this man, wants his mouth on him, wants to pump his cock into his hot, wet heat.

“Sì, qualsiasi cosa. Tutto quello che vuoi. Yes, anything. Anything you want.” Joe says harshly, his hands becoming wild grasping things.

They're kissing again, rough and chaotic, like Joe wants to be Nicky’s undoing.

Minutes later, when Nicky feels Joes tongue lap against the tip of his cock. His forearms braced against the roof of the van. _Just_ enough room for Joe’s mouth to reach him where he needs it. He thinks idly to himself, _Tomorrow I’ll make him pancakes, with cinnamon. The ones he likes._


	3. Nile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team carry on their discussion after Nicky and Joe leave.

Nile saw Joe’s shit-eating grin as he closed the door behind them. _Those two don’t know the meaning of the word discreet_. She shakes her head and goes around to sit next to Booker. The laptop chimes, Andy sits up straighter and spins it back to Booker.

“It’s Copley.” He answers the videocall, “Have you found anything?” Andy gets up from her seat to round the table. Her arm braced against the back of both their chairs.

Copley is reading from his computer screen, he looks tired. He’s typing and reading simultaneously, “This David Mitrovic is wanted by Interpol, almost every governing body from here to the US, under almost a dozen aliases. He’s Hungarian originally, his father emigrated in the early eighties, when he was a boy. He’s connected with Serbian organised crime, into everything. You name it, smuggling, arms trafficking, drug trafficking, protection rackets, illegal gambling. From what my source at Interpol told me, after he took over from his Father, he managed to turn a relatively small operation into one of the largest Serbian criminal groups on record.”

“Why wasn’t this picked up when we took the job?” Asks Andy, the question there, why didn’t _you_ pick this up? Copley sits back in his seat and lets out a heavy breath, “It came through a secure channel anonymously. I didn’t connect the dots. There was no mention of his name. We only got the tip -off through the photo recognition –“

“Alright.” Andy said a little irritated, shes obviously not interested in hearing excuses, “He mentioned something about a boat.”

“The closest body of water would be the Alboran.” offered Booker.

“Can you get access to the marine traffic?” She glances from Booker to Copley expectantly.

“Wait a minute,” Nile said putting her palm in the air, “You’re not actually suggesting we go after this guy, are you?” She must be looking at Andy like she is crazy. “Did you not hear what this guy is into? This is too much. We cant just go in there ,unprepared for no _good_ reason.”

Andy and Booker glance at each other, “We’ll be in touch.” Andy says as she shuts the laptop. Booker takes it and slides out from the table heading towards the small terrace out back. Andy straightens with her hands on the hips and looks at Nile, “This is what we _do_ Nile.” She says it like it should be obvious. “We find and take out the biggest of the bad because governments and agencies can only do so much without starting a war.” Her voice is practically pleading _. “_ We risk ourselves so lives of innocent people are spared.”

Nile takes a step back. She doesn’t want this to be a confrontation. “I understand what you’re saying, _I do_. But – “How can she explain? How can she tell Andy that she doesn’t want her to put herself into harms way unnecessarily? “- we don’t even know who this guy is, not really. And I do not trust this Violet, or whatever the fuck her name is. Surely you got to admit that something doesn’t feel right about the way she was picked up?”

Andy nods with a sigh and pulls out a chair, she sits with her forearms leaning on her knees. _She looks tired, worn out._

_“_ Nile, do you trust me?”

“Of course, I do.” Nile says automatically, because she does. Nile trusted all of them with her life. She knew Andy would never put her or any of the others at risk without good reason.

“I’ve had a bad feeling since we took this job. Before we even came here. I can’t explain it. I – I just know this has to be why.” Andy’s eyes seem to be searching her own, “I feel like this woman, this guy, _Mitrovic,_ it’s all connected to something bigger. Like we are supposed to be right here, right now.”

Nile doesn’t know what to say. This woman, this _unfathomable_ woman, was sitting here asking Nile to reassure her. _To tell her that she isn’t crazy_. The knot in her stomach seemed to tighten. _What if you get hurt? Or killed? What would become of us then?_ She doesn’t ask the questions spinning round her head, instead she pulls out the chair so they are both facing each other. Andy straightens and leans back.

“What if it’s a set-up?” Nile asks, eyebrows raised, “What if this is all some elaborate plan to get us all strapped to tables and pulled apart?”

“I don’t know.” Andy breathes, like she’s lost. “All I can tell you is what I feel. But I wont force you Nile. If you want to sit this one out -.” Andy leaves her thought unfinished. Nile knows that Andy would never force her will on the group. They all have free will. They could all choose to stay or go. Nile could choose to sit this one out. She could stay here or travel on and wait to hear from the others how things went. She _could_ do that.

_No man left behind._

“You’re my family now. My fucked-up, hard drinking, pain in the ass family. If you think this job is connected to something bigger then I trust you-“ Andy had an indulgent look on her face. Like Nile didn’t really understand the words she was saying, “like Nicky says, _everything happens for a reason.”_ Niles shrugs her shoulder, attempting nonchalance.

Andy huffed out a laugh and looked wistfully to the floor, “Yes, he does.”

Nile heard Bookers footsteps come up behind her. He put the laptop down on the table and pressed a few keys, “I think I found a live AIS Shipping manifest.” He spun it around so they could see the screen. The map showed the Alboran Sea, just east of Tangies main coastline. There were hundreds of small boats shaped dots painted across the picture, different colours, each of them marked with co-ordinates and names just above in small block capitals. “If he did have a boat, it’s likely to still be in the vicinity.”

“I cant imagine that asshole having just _any_ boat, he’d probably have one of those super-yachts to compensate for his- shitty personality.” Nile said, spitefully. Andy smirked at Niles _almost_ crude statement.

“I think you’re probably right” Andy agrees, “can you narrow it down to size of boat? Like a yacht?” Andy asked. Booker sat back down turned the laptop and pressed a few keys, “That narrows it down a bit. I took the fishing boats and cruise liners out. Have a look.” Andy drags the screen back to her. She’s scanning over all the small boat shaped dots, seemingly looking for something, anything to give her a clue what they’re looking for.

A few minutes go by, Andy is leaning very close to the screen, scanning over all the boats on screen.

“Son of a bitch.” Andy whispers, a small smile creeping onto her face.

“You found something?” asks Nile, leaning into where Andy is staring, she sees the curser roll over a small green ‘boat’ shaped dot blinking across on the screen, the name in all caps above the co-ordinates. “The Lila?” She asks a little disbelievingly.

“That’s it. That’s the fucker.” Andy smiles pleased with herself. Nile can see an intensity in her that was not there when she was looking so softly into her eyes a short while ago.

“How do you know?” She asks quietly.

“Because Lila,” She says as she sits back in her seat, “is Hungarian for _Violet_.”

“Shit.” Nile turns back to the screen and looks at Booker. He’s sitting back with his arms folded over his chest. “So what do we do now?” she asks looking back and forth between the two of them.

Booker looks at Andy and something unspoken goes between them. He takes the laptop back and starts typing furiously, concentration etched on his face.

“You get some sleep, Booker is going to find us schematics of the boat- “Andy starts to get up

“We could use satellite imagery also,” adds Booker, not looking at them, too busy typing, “try to see how many bodies are on board.”

“I’ll call Copley.” She takes her small black flip-phone out her front pocket and dials as she walks towards the terrace.

Nile doesn’t know what she feels. _Deflated?_ Andy had listened to her, hadn’t she? Surely she knew how important her safety was to her. She can’t even think about her being gone. _Someday she will be_. The thought creeps in against her will. The knot in her stomach constricting even more. What if something happens to her on this mission? What if -

“It is good that you tell her what you’re thinking.” Booker says breaking her out of her reverie.

“Huh?”

“I said it’s good that you voice your thoughts,” He says still looking at the screen of the computer. “She would not want to go into something without your support.”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice, what am I gonna do, leave her with you three assholes?” She smiles as she says it and Booker looks up from the screen. He smiles at her fondly and goes back to what he was doing.

Andy walks back in snapping her phone shut, “Copley says he should be able to get the images we need within the next five to six hours.”

Nile has to say she’s relieved, the heat is getting to her and all she wants to do is shower and sleep.

The front door handle turns and all three of them tense. Their collective sigh of relief is audible when Nicky bursts in the door holding a plastic shopping bag followed closely by Joe. Nile notes that Joe’s jacket is zipped up and Nicky has his hoodie bunched up in his other hand. Their hair is a mess and they both seem _very_ _relaxed._

“You two lovebirds get anything good?” Andy enquires with an arched eyebrow taking a seat at the table again.

“ _Very good.”_ Says Joe with a wicked grin _._ Nicky shushes him, hands him the bundled-up hoodie and goes to the kitchen counter to start unloading the groceries.

“Yes, I got things to make Harira –“ He says as he starts putting things away in the small fridge, “and some things for breakfast tomorrow.”

Nile observed Joe slink off without a word towards the bedroom, “What’s Harira?” she asked.

“It is a soup. You will like it, I think.” Nicky says as he turns and leans against the counter, “Do we have news?”

“We’re going to go after this guy – Mitrovic, and the woman.” She says sympathetically to Nicky. He and Joe missed a lot whilst out on their little _excursion._

“And, where is he?” Joe shouted from the next room, coming in as he is pulling on a new t-shirt.

_Subtle._

“He’s here, just off the coast.” Booker replies. He doesn’t look up from the laptop as he says it. Joe stares at him for a moment, dumbstruck. Booker stops typing and looks up at him. The whole room goes still.

Nile forgets sometimes that Joe has not forgiven him. Joe’s so compassionate and kind. He always seems to be in a good mood, even when things are dire. Nile couldn’t imagine not having Joe on her side, to have him there to talk to. She hurts for Booker then, he lost everyone, even himself, and is slowly being let back into the fold. Perhaps she feels the betrayal less keenly because they barely knew each other when the others were captured by Merrick.

She misses her brother and thinks about him every day but to lose a brother after _two hundred years together._ She didn’t want to imagine the scope of that hurt.

“So, a boat – like Mitrovic said.” Nicky chimes in, the awkward air dissipating with the lightness of his tone. Joe moves to stand next to Nicky, He folds his arms over his chest and leans into his lover side.

“Copley says we should have the information we need within the next six hours or so.” Nile answers.

“ _Bene_ , we have time for dinner.” Nicky says pleased.

An hour or so later, they all sit around the small table eating dinner, Joe sitting perched on the counter as they couldn’t muster enough seats in the small house. They filled the guys in on what they had found. They came up with a plan as they ate. Nile enjoyed her soup. It was spicy and filling.

They all agreed to try and get some sleep and wake up in two hours.

Nile slept on the small couch in the living area. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but she was warm and the soup had filled a hole in her stomach she didn’t know she had. She felt as content as she could in that moment. Her mind wandered from her brother, to her mother, to Andy. _Protect her. Keep her with us. Keep her with you._ She drifts off slowly into blackness.

She’s awoken by a gentle hand on her shoulder, Her blurry vision coming into focus, she sees Nicky above her. His kind, bright eyes staring down at her, “It’s time to get up sorellina.” He says lightly. Her head is fuzzy.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Three hours,“ He says with a small smile. “You were sleeping so soundly we didn’t want to wake you. Come.” He gestures to the table with his head, “We have the schematics and the thermals for the boat.”

They sit around the table, Nicky kindly gives her a glass of water to help wake her up. She had really been in a deep sleep. Not realising how tired she must have been.

Andy decides that the best thing to do would be to go in under cover of night. A power boat would give off too much noise and a radio signal so they decide on a sail boat. Nile is assured that they are all gifted sailors, _because of course they are,_ and is therefore in very good hands.

Most of the heat signatures are at the bow of the boat, Andy says that’s most likely where the guards and heavy fire power will be concentrated. So they will board from the stern. Two teams of two will take both the port and starboard side and one of them will go inside and locate David Mitrovic and eliminate him. If the woman is on board and non-hostile they offer to take her alive. Collect any Intel they can and get out.

“I should be the one to go inside, Boss.” Booker says after a moment. They all know that Andy means for her to be the one to find and kill this asshole. “You’re vulnerable. And if you come across – “

“Not a chance.” Andy says resolutely.

“-In a boat of this size and spec there is going to be additional security. You can’t bypass electronic locks, keypads, secured doors.” _And you’re not bulletproof anymore._ Nile hears the unspoken warning in is voice. He does have a point. “I’ll go and kill this guy and get the woman.” We will be in and out in ten minutes, tops.”

Andy looks from Booker, to Nile then to Joe and finally to Nicky. Nile sees the realisation on her face when she knows they’re all thinking the same thing. _You’re not invincible anymore._

Andy looks down for a moment. Her head hanging low, then brings it up a beat later with a deep breath, “Alright, Book. You do it.” Nile can practically feel the tension evaporate from her shoulders, “But any longer than ten minutes and I’m coming in after you. Bulletproof or not. I’ll be with Nile.”

“Sure, boss. Ten minutes.” Booker agrees and he smiles at her.

“OK,” Andy says thudding her hand on the table, “Pack it up boys, were going sailing.”


	4. Booker

Booker was not a fan of sailing, or open water for that matter. Too much could go wrong. They had picked up a small sailboat in the Port de Tangier Ville and had been cruising approximately 2 hours before they reached the yacht. Everyone worked together well. Each even taking turns reassuring Nile that they would not capsize should the sea turn choppy, she seemed nervous, but she hid it well enough.

By the time they had reached the yacht the moon was high. The Gulf was illuminated and if you stood up you could see all the way to the coastline of Gibraltar. ‘The Lila’ was an impressive Yacht, sleek black modern lines. It spanned 361 feet from bow to stern. State of the art and luxury personified. It boasted 6 bedrooms, 5 baths, cinema, gym, library and spa. Booker was almost impressed when he saw the blueprints – being an international criminal seems to pay very well.

Once they were about 100 metres out, they lowered the small sail and He and Nicky rowed towards the aft deck. There were lights coming from a few portholes, but the main light source was concentrated on the top deck towards the front of the yacht. As they approached, he noticed a small power boat tethered the port side, possibly big enough for four people – they could fit. _A quick exit should they need it._

“Boss.” He motioned with his head toward the speedboat to Andy. Andy looked over her shoulder and a small smile played on her lips. Confident he knew how _she_ wanted to leave, at least.

They had assessed the plans and discovered the master cabin was on top deck and had two possible exits, so it would be best for them to go in quietly as to not raise the alarm. With the time of night, it stood to reason that the boat would be silent, possibly only a few guards doing perimeter checks whilst the asshole and his wife slept. _Would she be sleeping?_

When they were close enough, Joe clasped his hand onto the handrail so they wouldn’t drift, and they all filed out of the small boat, each holding their silenced semi-automatic handguns. Joe, Nicky and Andy had their ancient weapons strapped to their backs, like always. Nile elected to bring a backpack in case they needed to seize Intel. Booker much preferred his rifle, but his TX22 handgun will do in a pinch.

They all wore tactical gear. Andy wore a bullet-proof vest and armour-plates covering her arms and thighs, which she hated with a passion. Everyone else was in all black, the same as him. He even wore his lucky black hat.

Once Joe had boarded, he turned, and they all stood there for a moment. Andy spoke in hushed whispers, “OK, Book, ten minutes. Nile you’re with me, we’ll take port-side, Nicky and Joe take starboard.” She looks his dead in the eye, “ten minutes, then were coming in.” He nods at her and she and Nile duck down the left-hand walkway that leads to the front and Joe and Nicky go right.

He knows where to go and glides the small sliding doors open into a large seating area, the lights are dimmed, so he must be careful not to bump into anything. He aims his pistol ahead of himself to silence any guards before they have a chance to raise the alarm. Through another set of doors, he comes to an imperial staircase, leading to the top deck. _This will be where he is. Where she is._

It is a wide-open atrium, as he climbs he’s conscious to cover his full 360. Once on the top landing he remembers, _two rights and a left._ He comes to the final turning. He hears a man speak with a thick accent, “I dunno what the Boss is thinking bringing her back here, what are we? Glorified babysitters!” Booker slows his pace and tries to control his breathing, he is poised and ready at the corner.

W _ait, pick your time._

“I don’t get it, why doesn’t he just get rid of her?” Another man replies. _Two of them._

“Don’t let the Boss hear you say that, I heard he dropped a guy from his helicopter cause he said she was a tight piece of ass.” The first guard warned, “So watch your fuckin’ mouth. And don’t ever think that that bitch in there is a princess neither. She’d gut you first chance she got.” He finished with an unkind sneer.

_Enough._

Booker rounded the corner and shot them both through the head before they even knew what was happening. As they crumpled to the floor he listened for the sounds of anyone coming to see what the noise was. _Nothing_. The hallway was narrow with plush carpet and wood panelling, blood pooling underneath the bodies. _That’s going to leave a bitch of a stain._

As he gets closer he noticed the door had an electronic key-card access. _Fuck, I don’t have time for this._ He knelt and search the first lifeless body, _nothing,_ then the second _._ A small plastic grey card was tied to a lanyard around his neck. He got low to the ground and swiped the card through just under the handle and as silently as he could, he rotated and opened the door a crack. There was a soft light coming through the gap and it was silent inside. He opened it further sneaking in, a surge of adrenaline through his veins as he gripped his gun and tried to control his breathing.

This was another small seating area, part of the master suite, the sofa and plush armchairs placed in the centre of the room. There was a small table with a lamp on it to his right with a door to its side. _Exit._ A door to his left slightly ajar, he heard a noise from inside, someone moving about. _Gotcha._

He inched towards the door, thankful for the thick carpeting to muffle his boot-falls. He placed his hand on it and pushed gently. His grip on his pistol tight trying to calm himself. As he moved deeper inside, there was a large bed in the centre of the room, a mass of crumpled sheets and pillows thrown onto the floor. There was a door on the far back wall to the left, steam coming out of it. _Bathroom_.

_It’s quiet._

Just then the door to the bathroom swung open and the woman walked in. She was wearing a short blue dress and was barefoot, she held a small white towel in her hands as she rubbed her damp hair. She didn’t notice him immediately, only the light from the bathroom illuminating a triangle on the carpet. She stopped at the dresser and, as if she was a deer sensing a predator nearby, she stilled. Her back to him, he held his breath. _He should say something. Anything. Say something._

She turned slowly, her eyes wide and she locks into his gaze. S _uch eyes._

She looks to the door and bolts, before she makes it a two steps he grabs her into a bearhug, her back to his chest. She kicks wildly and he wonders how someone so slight could be so strong. In the struggle he loses grip on his gun and he can hear it fall on the carpet. She notices too. She gets purchase on her feet and elbows him hard in the solar plexus causing him to gasp and loosen his grip, she scrambles away from him on her hands and knees. He recovers and grabs her ankle a second before she manages to reach his gun, dragging her back towards him, dodging her kicks and her flailing arms. Spinning her onto her back and he straddles her, pinning her legs and restrains her wrists to the floor with each of his hands. Her eyes are wild and she looks furiously at him, venom practically dripping from her gaze.

She’s trying to jerk her body but he’s too heavy.

“Stop!” He half-shouts through gritted teeth. His stomach hurts, he can feel whatever bruise would’ve been there healing, “Just stop,” He sounds tired and winded to his own ears.

She stills, her breathing is laboured, and he can practically feel the adrenaline spiking in her blood.

  
“Did he send you?” She breathes, her eyes searching his face.

“Who? Your husband?” He asks, confused.

“Did he send you to kill me this time?” Her voice is soft, her breathing is slower but no less harsh. Making an effort to calm herself.

“I’m here to _kill your husband._ ” He says breathlessly, “Where is he?”

“He’s not here, he’s been gone hours.” She strains her arms against his hold, and he can tell she is flexing her back to gage if she could flip them.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I can help you stay safe.” _Safe? Where the hell did that come from?_

She stills briefly, her breath caught in her throat and she’s looking at him like he’s crazy. They sit there for a moment, both of them simply staring, he’s suddenly very aware that he’s looming over her and of what she feels like underneath him. She’s about to say something when his comms kick in, Andy’s voice, _“Book, come in?”_

_Merde._

He shifts so that he holds both her wrists in his left hand, she starts to struggle again and he pins her with a glare, “Stay still.” He says seriously. She does as she is told but he can see her mind working behind her cool eyes, trying to figure a way out. He reaches for the button at his earpiece, “I’m here, Boss”

_“Book, the guards are down, fifteen, there’s no sign of Mitrovic. We have a laptop and a few hard drives. But this looks like a dead-end.”_

_“_ I have his wife. She says he’s not on board.”

“ _Is she hostile?”_

He looks down at her and if looks could kill, he would be a dead man - no coming back, “Not _exactly_.” She twists her mouth petulantly and raises an eyebrow at him. Knowing he’s discussing her.

“ _Make the call Book. Get back to the boat.”_

He knew what she meant, he had to decide to kill her or not.

The thought made his stomach roll. This woman wasn’t evil. But there was something about her. Something that he couldn’t put his finger on. She probably has information they could use to find Mitrovic, she’s his _wife_ for fuck’s sake. She must have valuable Intel.

_The lies we tell ourselves._

“Time to get up, princess”, he said with a huff. He noted the way her eyes flashed when he called her that, this woman was _very pissed off._ He lifted his weight from her thighs marginally, he intended to turn her round onto her belly, zip tie her hands and escort her back to the boat.

That is what he _intended_ _to do_. What happened was something far different altogether.

When he lifted his weight he felt her legs shift and before he had sense to drop down again she had jutted her hips upwards forcing him higher and managed to bring her legs up and cross her ankles in front of his face throwing him backwards with a force that tore the air from his lungs.

His back crashed into the vanity. The mirror, sitting on top, tipped forward smashed and fell over cascading over him. As he shielded his eyes from the fragments of falling glass, he saw her scramble to the gun. He hoisted himself up but by the time he was on his feet she stood aiming it, he was sure, right between his eyes.

He stood there; his arms stretched out to his sides showing his palms. Both breathing roughly, “Don’t fucking move.” She spat at him. He takes a single step; she cocks the gun. “I don’t want to kill you…” _But I will,_ he finishes the next part of the sentence.

He could just take the bullet, but by the time her comes back she might be gone, or she might run into one of the others and they would figure out what she’d done and then they _would_ kill her.

She stands there, looking at him, determined and unflinching.

_This isn’t the first time you’ve held a gun._

He thinks what a picture this would make, him dressed head to toe in combat gear and her, barefoot, hair still damp from the shower and wearing a fucking mini-dress to boot. For a moment he’s quite glad he’s here alone with her, the others would never let him live this down.

“You’re not taking me anywhere.” She says resolutely.

“Everyone else on the boat is dead, when your husband returns what will he think? Who will he blame?” He plants the seed of doubt and he recognises the sliver of fear escaping through a crack in her armour. _He doesn’t like it_.

“I haven’t finished what I came here to do.” She says the wobble in her voice giving away her distress. Her eyes soften slightly, as though imploring him to understand something.

“What did you come here to do?” He asks, _keep her talking,_ hopefully the others will wonder where he is and will come running.

“I came back to stop him – to stop all of this…” She lowers the gun a few inches, fatigue and loss of adrenaline causing her to falter.

He takes a small step forward. “How are you going to stop him?”

“I –“ She hesitates

She looks like she’s about to go on when the door of the living area bursts open and Nile and Andy charge into the room followed by Nicky and Joe covering the rear. Andy spots her with the gun aimed at him and as she locks the woman in her sights, she pulls the trigger.

Booker doesn’t think, he runs and hurls himself between Andy the woman. The bullet enters his shoulder and he goes down. “Ah! Fuck!” _Never get used to that pain._ “Don’t shoot!” He shouts at them through gritted teeth.

_“Drop the weapon!”_ Nile commands the woman, her gun trained to her forehead. She drops it to the floor and Nile kicks it away.

Andy is kneeling next to him and can feel the bullet start to push out his shoulder. “Book…” Andy starts to say. He shakes his head and struggles to get up. “It’s alright, Boss.” He says grabbing her arm to help him up. He still thinks its strange that she’d care so much about hurting him, _especially after everything that happened._ He flinches from the memory but Andy assumes its from the pain, he sees her brows crease with regret.

Both Nicky and Joe are standing looking from him to the blonde.

“You get your ass handed to you by a _little girl_ , Booker?” Joe says around his chewing gum, it catches him off-guard. It is the first sentence Joe has spoken directly to him since he came back. Since he was allowed back. He smiled at Booker. Honestly smiled, Booker didn’t care that it was at his expense or that there was an unkind glint behind it.

“She’s quick.” He says around a huff of breath. Nicky’s lips twitch as he looks from the woman to Booker.

“We are not here for you.” Nicky says to her, “We are here – “

“-for my husband, I know.” She interrupted, speaking plainly to him. “He’s not here, I already told your friend that he left hours ago. And no, I don’t know where he is.” She says, answering their next question. She turns her head and looks directly at Nile, “You shouldn’t point a gun at someone unless you intend to shoot them.” she says as though scolding a child. Her crisp accent clipped with irritation.

“Who says I’m not?” Nile says matching her tone. Booker hasn’t really seen Nile actively dislike someone before, even him. He sees the woman lifts her eyebrow slightly, impressed with young Nile’s bite.

  
“Nile.” Andy says, carefully, she tilts her head slightly and Nile begrudgingly lowers her weapon.

“You killed everyone?” The blonde, Violet, asks the room.

“Everyone is dead.” Confirms Nicky.

Her breath hitches. She takes a moment, clearly thinking everything over. She turns to him and he feels his heart beat a bit faster. _Get a grip!_ She drags her gaze to his shoulder. The blood would hardly be visible under his dark clothes, but he sees the flicker of something over her face.

_Suspicion._

“You have put a spanner in the works, somewhat.” She muttered, placing her hands on her hips she spun, her eyes unseeing as she thought out loud to herself. Everyone in the room, seemingly, forgotten. She takes another few steps and sits herself down on the end of the unmade bed, a few shard of broken mirror falling onto the heavy carpet by her naked feet. Her hands bunched in the sheets beside her. A beat or two passes.

“We don’t have time for this bullshit. We need to leave.” Nile barks, she looks to Andy for back-up.

“Book we _have_ to go.” Andy adds. Nicky and Joe turn for the door.

Before he can stop himself, he kneels in front of her, _Violet_ , and places a tentative hand over hers. Glassy eyes stare back at him. _Tell her we need to leave; you can keep her safe, for aslong as she needs._ She licks her lips, and his eyes dart to her soft plump mouth, softly, she breathes “Laptop.”

_Wait, what?_

“I need my laptops” She says more assertively, looking to the others, “surely one of you must’ve found them.” She gets up leaving him on his knees. _What the fuck?_

They all look to each other, all of them aware of what is in Nile’s backpack.

“We don’t have ti-“, Andy starts to say, taking a step towards her

“No, you don’t understand, _everything_ I need is on those computers,” She looks back to him, “look its too much to explain right now but I need them. It must be done now. I won’t get this chance again. Not after he comes back and discovers what’s happened.” She says in a frenzied tirade _._

He stands up and feels everyone’s eyes on him. _He must be fucking crazy._

He walks over to Nile and holds his palm out. Nile gives a small shake of her head, her mouth a determined line, “Not a chance.” She says eyeing the woman behind him.

“Nile, I’ll take responsibility for this. We’ll meet you back at the safehouse.” She’s looking at him with wide, apprehensive eyes. She didn’t miss the ‘we’ in the sentence. She gives Andy a sideways look, “I’m a big boy Nile. I can handle it.” He cuts in, before there is any more debate about this.

Nicky takes a step forward and unzips Niles bag, catching her off-guard, she looks like she’s about to object but catches herself. Nicky takes the small computer out and hands it to him. “See you soon.” He says evenly with a smile in his eyes. Nicky was always the most pragmatic of the group.

Nicky knows that he will not change his mind. He wants to hurry this along.

They all stand there for a moment and then Joe turns to leave, a resigned look on his face. They follow one by one until its just Andy at the door. She looks back and smirks, “I’m taking the fucking speedboat. See you in the morning.”

They’re alone.

He turns and the laptop is out of his hand before he can blink. She spins around and lays it on the bed, kneeling in front of it, the power button brings the screen to life and she starts typing furiously. Booker spots that she opens the text editor – _coding?_ She sits typing for a few minutes.

He turns to find his gun across the room from where Nile had kicked it out of reach. Putting it back in his holster her studies her. Her blonde hair, almost dry now. The pale skin of her legs as she kneels on the floor. His eyes wander to the unmade bed, had she been here with her husband? In bed with him?

_Fucking snap out of it! Get a hold of yourself. You’re on a fucking yacht surrounded by dead bodies with the wife of a known criminal._

This woman was surprising, he had to give her that. One moment she was cool and collected then the next it was like she was made of glass; the slightest touch and she’d shatter into a million pieces.

She whispers something under her breath then, too low for him to catch, and picks up the computer and starts to head out the door, not even acknowledging the fact he’s there. He whirls around after her and grabs her arm as she’s heading to the door. Her head spins round and he is greeted with those lovely, cool eyes, “What do you think you’re doing?” He asks genuinely. Because he _genuinely_ has no fucking clue what is going on in this fucking woman’s head.

“Finishing what’s been catapulted ahead of schedule by you and your band of merry-fucking men.” She states as she jerks her arm free. “I don’t have time for this, he could be back any moment.” She said as she marched to the door just to the left opened a small cabinet and pulled a pair of sneakers on. She stood, pushing her hair out of her face with her free hand, “Come on then, _big boy.”_ She smirked, parroting his earlier words to Nile, she turned and made her way to the hallway, laptop in hand. He’s starting to regret his decision.

He followed her with heavy footsteps, when she came to the outer door to the suite, she stopped dead in her tracks. _Fuck._ He forgot about the guards. He expects her to be stunned. Disgusted, hell he’d take even a little shocked, at this point.

He came up behind her, as she stood staring down at the bodies, her face perfectly composed. _She’s used to death._ She took a step over one guard, her shoe squelching into the carpet, the blood causing the carpet to become sodden. As he cleared the body, she turned and thrust the laptop to his chest, “Here hold this.” He grabbed it, holding it like a schoolboy holding his books and looked on as she stooped down to roll one of them over and take a handgun from the limp body.

She checked the chamber before lowering it to her side and then motioning for the laptop back, “Don’t look so worried.” She says with a half-smile.

“I’m not worried.” He says, hating the defensive tone in his voice.

“Really?” She asks, turning to walk away, “because you _look_ worried.” He can hear the smile in her voice, “I never had any real plans to shoot you.”

Definitely regretting his decision.

He grabs her arm and spins her around so they are facing each other, both her arms held in his firm grip, her body is solid against his and their faces a hairs breadth from each other, he can feel her breath against his skin. She hums, deep in the back of her throat and he feels it down to his toes.

“What are you going to do, _Mr. Booker? Sit on me again?”_ Her voice is soft and lilting, the same as it had been in the apartment. His temper flared at the use of his name, who was she? Who did she think he was? Some idiot, no doubt. Another hired gun, all bullets and no fucking brains.

“Anything funny – _anything_ , and I put a bullet in you myself.” He warned with a hard glare.

“Understood,” Her voice clipped, “I do hope your shoulder isn’t giving you trouble?” He’d almost take that as genuine concern if he didn’t see the maddening glint in her eye. _Infuriating woman._ He huffs and pushes her away. She spins and starts down the passage, not so much as a glance back. A woman on a mission.

As they make there was through the corridors, she takes a right and opens the door of a study. The walls are covered in books and there is a large ornate desk in centre. She rounds the desk, placing the laptop on the desk she turns and pulls a book from the shelf dropping it to the floor. She’s looking for something and becoming frustrated she starts pulling handfuls of books and drops them to the floor. He’s starting to think that she’s lost her mind. When she’s cleared one shelf, she goes to another. He is standing watching her dumbfounded. She throws another pile to the floor and stops, “There we are.” With a satisfied sigh she reaches back and seems to press a button and the wall to his right pops open.

She picks the laptop up and crosses in front of him. Pulling the façade open with her foot. He grabs the edge and pulls, it opens easily and he’s confronted with a narrow, stainless steel staircase that goes down into the bowels of the ship. The steep stairs creak and protest under their footfalls. He pulls his gun when he gets to the bottom. He follows her along the walkway. It’s cooler down here, they must be below the waterline.

“Where the fuck are you going?” He says, spitting it out through gritted teeth. He’s nervous he realises, there’s a pit in his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end.

“I need a secure connection. I couldn’t get one before, the signal kept changing. I have to get an ethernet connection to transmit.” She pauses, “It’s in here.” She reaches for a small door handle that he hadn’t noticed.

“Transmit what?” He asks he follows her inside; he checks the corridor one last time before letting the door fall closed and he is confronted with one of the most state of the art server rooms he’s ever seen. Towers running along each side. She walks along the make-shift corridor and opens one of the glass doors and sits down on the floor, her laptop sitting infront of her. It’s freezing, he sees their breath misting in the air. _She must feel it_ , he thinks as he sees a small shiver passes through her.

“I’ll only be another 5 minutes. I just need to establish a connection.” She starts to type, “At the end of the room there’s a set of drawers, in the third one down there’s spare cables, bring me a pale green one.” He looks to the end of the corridor then back to her and when she notices that he hasn’t moved she adds, “Please?” she adds as an afterthought.

 _“I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, just cause she’s nice to look at you lose your fucking mind. And all of a sudden, you’re running around like a fucking lapdog”,_ he mutters this to himself as he retrieves the cable. Hating himself.

She makes short work of connecting the server to her computer, looking at the screen it seems like she’s transmitting locations, each line of code coming up with co-ordinates, names and dates. She opens another screen, her fingers feverishly typing and then a small loading screen ‘JP Morgan Chase’.

“A bank?” He asks out of nowhere, making her jump slightly, “This is about _money_?!” He yells at her, surprising himself.

Her eyes are wide and weary, “Money turns the wheels of the world, _Mr. Booker_.” She says evenly, “But to answer your question, no, this is most certainly _not_ about money.” She turns and from what he can see she transfers a total of about thirty million dollars to ten or so different accounts, wiring across several banks and continents. She spends another few minutes waiting for what appears to be confirmation then pulls the cable. She presses a few keys and the screen goes black.

She visibly sags infront of him, sitting on the cold steel floor of the room she seems so small. So _young._

“We should go.” She says quietly.

“Alright.” He responds automatically.

“Do I have to go with you?” She asks as she stands, her closed laptop held in her left hand.

_She didn’t really, did she? He could let her go, let her disappear again. Who was she to him really? No one, she’d be gone in a few decades and then this will all be a distant memory. He could forget about her and he’d still be fine. He had his family back. Mostly. He didn’t need her. The family didn’t need her. He could just take the computer._

His eyes flickered to it, betraying his thoughts. She looked down and then lifted it, offering it to him, “I wiped the memory,” _Of course she did, “_ but I’m sure it will work just as well as a paperweight.”

 _“_ I’d expect nothing less.” He says with a small smile. She smiles back at him, tiny, but its there.

_Fuck it._

“Yes.” He says, breaking the spell of whatever the hell it was between them, “You have to come with me. We have some questions for you.”

_That sounded plausible, right?_


	5. Joe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the safehouse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of talking in this part, but it sets up the next few chapters nicely. 
> 
> Does anyone else think Nile might be a bit jealous? No? Must just be me then ;)

Chapter 5

Joe

Taking the speedboat had been an excellent idea, they made it back to shore and subsequently the safehouse within an hour, it had just gone 2am by the time they arrived. They had all changed and were settling down for the night. All except Andy, she was sitting on the terrace, her boots up on the small table staring out at the night. Nile crashed on the sofa, again. Neither seems to drift far away from the other.

Nicky made them both tea. They sat at the small table facing each other, their bare feet tangling underneath. Nicky looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual. Joe sat holding the cup to his chin, the steam rising from it as he blew gently to take a small sip. Nicky sat with his cup in front of him, his thumb skimming over the rim. It’s too hot for him, he prefers it to cool itself, taking its time. His Nicky, always the more patient of the two.

Nicky’s eyes were cast down to the table, he has _that_ look on his face, “What’s worrying you, amore?, Joe asks over the lip of his mug.

“Do you think I did right?” Nicky asks quietly, his voice muted so as not to disturb Nile. Joe knows what he means, of course. Giving over the computer? Leaving Booker with the woman? Nicky had acted as he always had done, on pure instinct and heart.

“Booker was not for leaving the woman alone, I think if you hadn’t done it, Andy would’ve have relented anyway.” Nicky’s eyes moved to him then. His chin leaning into his palm, as he usually does, when deep in thought.

“Lei è strana, no? _She is strange, no?_ ” He asks with a furrowed brow.

Joe blew a breath out of his nose, “Non credo che siamo in grado di giudicare, il mio cuore, vero _? I don’t think we’re in a position to judge, my heart, do you?_ ” He says with a small smile and Nicky returns it. Leaning back in his chair, his tea untouched. Joe knew Nicky didn’t really want it. He only made it because Joe usually had tea before bed, whenever possible.

“I suppose not.” His lips perking up at the sides, he crosses his arms over his chest his eyes scanning the kitchen, “Booker è portato con lei. _Booker is taken with her._ ” He says to the countertop. Joe nods slightly and places his cup on the table. Nicky looks to him and, “I don’t think he will betray us all again,” Joe makes a face at that, but Nicky carries on, “I just want him to think it through. He could be putting us in danger again.”

That Joe could agree with. Booker had mourned his lost family for over two hundred years, it had caused him to become so miserable and depressed he had gotten them vivisected. His Nicky, wincing and screaming in pain as they sliced him open, Joe strapped down, unable to do anything but listen and shout curses at their captors.

He shook his head, as though shaking the thoughts loose from his memory.

“I think,” He says, leaning his hands on the table, getting up, “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” He takes both their cups to the small sink and dumps out the tea, watching it circle the drain. He turns on the faucet.

“Joe.” Nicky says. He doesn’t turn around, his mind on the task of rinsing the cups. He doesn’t want to think about Booker. The weight in his chest threatening to crush him whenever he does.

He hears the chair scrape back and within two seconds Nicky’s arms are curling around his waist, his chin resting on his shoulder. Joes hands still, leaning back into the solid weight of his love. He leans his head back on Nicky’s shoulder and they stand there a moment. There breathing synchronising easily. He puts the cup down and smooths his damp hands over Nicky’s. _Couldn’t they just stay like this?_

They were both wearing t-shirts and sweatpants. Joe had neglected to wear underwear again, seeing how riled up Nicky had gotten in the van. The thought comes rushing back and he presses his ass backwards into the hard pressure of Nicky’s bulge. Nicky’s breath catches and then feels his warm mouth at Joes neck. Licking and sucking at the small spot under his ear that never fails to send shivers down his spine. Nicky is unhurried, lazy with it. He drives Joe mad. He can feel Nicky’s cock getting hard, his own filling and growing heavy between his legs.

_They need a vacation. Somewhere he can keep this man naked and delirious, pressed into a soft mattress._

Nicky makes a low groan in the back of his throat and he can’t help himself. Joe turns in his arms and their lips collide, all painful thoughts banished by this beautiful man licking into his mouth. His still damp hands raking through Nicky’s short hair. Sometimes he misses the length, especially when he’s on his knees for him. _Oh,_ _how he used to twist it around his fists._ He whines into Nicky’s mouth at the memory, growing harder, pressing against him more urgently. 

Nicky pushes him back up against the sink and moves his hands under his shirt to run them over his stomach. Their cocks pressing together, making them both grind into the delicious feeling. _Just ten minutes,_ He thinks. Hell, he’d take five. He could make him come undone in five minutes. He’d done it before.

“Can’t you two keep your hands to yourselves for five minutes?” Andy whisper shouts at them. Her voice closer than expected. They both turn their heads, bodies still pressed together to hide their mutual need. Joe hides a smile at the way Andy mirrored his thoughts. He’d been so engrossed in his beloved he hadn’t heard her approach.

She’s leaning on the back of one of the small dining chairs, “I’m heading out for a while. If the kid wakes up tell her I’ll be back soon, ok?” Both nod once to her, a smile creeping across her face as she heads past them to the door, shaking her head slightly.

They both turn back to each other, their breaths mingling together. Small smiles and heartbeats slowing as the seconds pass.

The spell broken, Joe sighed and pressed their foreheads together. Nicky’s hands still warmly against his stomach. Gently stroking now, no urgency in them like before. Both of them only half hard between their legs, content to just be pressed together.

“I suppose twice in one day would’ve been too much to hope for, hmm?” Joe teases. His eyes shut, both hands still entangled in Nicky’s hair.

“After Andy has finished with this man, lets go away. Solo noi. _Just us_.” Nicky says. Joe always surprised at how this man can read his mind. His words so few but always perfect. Joe tilts his head back, moving his hands from Nicky’s hair to clasp behind his neck, his forearms leaning on his broad shoulders.

Nicky looks at him, not necessarily waiting on an answer. He knows wherever one goes the other will follow. Hadn’t that always been the way of it. They stand there a few moments more. Nicky’s eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“You’re tired.” Joe whispers to him.

Nicky nods, slowly, “Come lay with me.” He says, stepping back, taking one of Joes hands from the back of his neck, he leans past him to turn the water off and then leads him to one of the small bedrooms off the side, never letting go of his hand. The small single bed in the corner is illuminated with a dim glow from the cheap bedside lamp. Nicky stops just before it, pulling the covers back, waiting for Joe to get in.

As he places himself against the wall, fixing the thin pillow against his head, he sees Nicky go to his bag and bring his gun before coming back and placing it under the pillow, as always. He slides in next to Joe, turning off the small lamp. Nicky’s back pressed against his chest, his arm fitting perfectly under the gap his neck leaves. He curls his arm around his love and intertwines their fingers. Leaning in, he can smell the soap he must have used earlier, Joe can’t help himself and presses a slow kiss on the crook of Nicky’s neck.

Nicky hums in the back of his throat, Joe can tell he’s fighting to stay awake, “Sonno, amore. _Sleep, love_.” He says softly. Nicky’s breathing evens out almost immediately. Joe relaxes his neck and closes his eyes. He sees a flash of Bookers face, laughing at something Joe had said. The way they used to be. _Before._

Darkness takes him.

He wakes to an empty bed. He hears a door close shut; it must’ve been what had stirred him. As he sits up, the fog clears from his mind. The dim morning light coming in. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours since they fell asleep. He pushes the covers back and sits on the edge, his hand rubbing over his face. He pushes himself up and as he pads to the door, he hears Nicky’s even tones through the thin wood.

His feet are cold on the tile floor, he is thankful for the soft t-shirt and sweatpants.

As he opens the door to their small bedroom, everyone turns to glance in his direction. They are all littered around the table in the kitchen. Everyone turning to look at him as he moves to stand next to Nicky, who is seated next to Andy at the table.

The woman from the boat, Violet, sinks into a chair. Her sharp eyes looking steadily at him. She had changed clothes from earlier. A white t-shirt, black jeans. Her sneakers peaking out from under the small table where she has crossed her legs. _Booker let her get changed._ He notices a small duffle bag left forgotten by the door. Not one of theirs, _and he let her pack a fucking bag?_.

Nile is standing off to his left, leaning on the wall between the small TV and the front door. Keeping this woman firmly in her sights. Possibly with good reason.

The small clatter of a spoon hitting the worktop brings his attention to the fact Booker is making coffee, he doesn’t turn as he is occupies himself with the small kettle on the stove. He turns and places a small cup in front of the woman. She tilts her head up to him and they share a long look. _He really is taken with her, isn’t he?_ He sees Nicky look up at him from the corner of his eye, _I told you_ so written clearly across his face. Book clears his throat and leans back against the stove, his arms crossing over his chest. He hasn’t looked at Joe once. _Coward._

 _Violet,_ lifts the coffee and takes a sip. Her eyes watching them all carefully. If Booker had brought her here against her will, she did not show unease. But then again, what abductor allowed their victim to pack beforehand, “I was told you had some questions for me?” She said as she lowered her cup. She was looking at Andy.

“Your husband.” Andy said straightforwardly. Joe saw the woman flinch, ever so slightly, but she composed herself quickly.

Placing her cup on the table, “What about him?”

“I want to know who he is. I want to know where he could be, I want to know why we can’t find a single thing outside of a secure Interpol database about him.” She leans forward clasping her hands on top the table, “and why can’t we find a single fucking thing about you?”

She lifts her cup again, sipping.

Buying herself time.

Lowering the cup to rest in her hands.

“Why this interest?”, she asked leaning forward, “Your job is finished, is it not?” She paused, expecting an answer. When she got none she continued, “When I saw your Mr. Booker in my bedroom I naturally assumed my husband had changed his mind and decided to kill me instead.” Booker shifted his feet, exchanging a look with Andy. “But that wasn’t why you were on my boat; do you often double-cross and try to kill your employers?” Joe sees Andy visibly under the question.

“Your boat?” Nile probes from the side.

Violet looks to Nile abruptly, a small smile playing on her lips, “ _My_ boat, yes.” They share a short strained look. She looks so young. Like Nile, young but the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Answer the questions.” Andy demanded.

Violet looked at Andy, something dancing behind her eyes, “Your lack of knowledge is disappointing.”, she says, “You storm a boat in the middle of the night, killing dozens of men, _kidnapping me_ , supposedly there to kill a man who you have no clue who he is or what he is capable of.”

“We know enough about him to know that he brings suffering to the world.” Nicky says, defending Andy.

“Because of your reckless and barely planned actions you have caused me to move up with my plans and have successfully painted a target on my back that will hinder my ability to carry them out. I will be lucky to last a year.” She says with a hard look to Nicky.

They all shifted a little. They had gone with Andy’s gut instinct on this one. She would have gone alone, what option did they have but to go with her?

“Why would he want to kill you?”, Andy asks evenly drawing her back, not letting the woman get away with the distraction of her anger.

“He doesn’t, not really. Not yet anyway.”, She sighs and reclines back into her chair, “Once he has discovered the massacre on the boat, he will put two and two together and get five.” Sighing as she visibly sags into her chair, “With any luck he will think I’ve legitimately been kidnapped. That should buy me some time, at least.” She says wearily. “I imagine he has already returned early due to the radio silence.”

“When we were on the boat you said it was your only chance to do something?” Andy asks, changing tack.

“Yes.” She wraps both her hands around the small mug and brings it to her lips.

Nile lets out an exasperated groan, “And…?”, when she doesn’t look like she is going to continue.

Violet places the mug on the table and turns to her, her eyebrow arched. There is certainly no love lost between these two women, “After I left my husband, I set about creating a program. A very particular program. It tracks and pinpoints the recipients of data or funds sent from the host to within a hundred metre radius each way.”, She turns back to Andy, “This can successfully be traced across the globe, anywhere, through any data point wireless or not, no matter the encryption or security.” Nicky moves his eyes to him, and he sees the worry there, he sees the fear. She carries on, “I need to narrow it down to some degree but within a few months, I should be able to identify the key players in his network.”

Booker steps forward slightly, Violet turns to him and his attention is solely on the woman, “There isn’t a government in the world that wouldn’t kill for this kind of thing. You’d be able to trace anyone, _hack anyone_. No security could stop it, it’s like the skeleton key to everything. Every back-door and dark web user brought to the light, you could hack the fucking pentagon with this -” He suddenly stops, like he had to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t. Joe can see clearly; Booker is in awe of this woman. Booker can hack into any system, can find almost anything needed, but it takes time. He’s good at what he does. Its why they had all trusted him so completely.

“I have no interest in toppling governments, this is simply a means to an end.” She responds steadily.

Joe just doesn’t understand it. Why would she go to so much trouble? Surely, there are easier ways to stop her husband. There are certainly easier ways to leave one’s spouse than _this._

“You _made_ something that can do this?” Nile asks, amazement in her voice.

“You’ll find I can do almost anything I put my mind to.” She gives Nile a knowing look.

“ _Why_ do it?” The question is out of Joes mouth before he can stop himself, his hand still resting on Nicky’s shoulder. The worry for him, _his Nicky._ It was because of technology they got caught. When Booker did the unspeakable and betrayed them all, preying on their ignorance of the technology of today.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. She looks at the cup of coffee like it holds the answer she’s trying to give him.

“Do you think one can be evil by association?” looking up at him, her eyes searching his.

No one answers, waiting for her to continue. He thinks of Quynh. The guilt they all carry with how she turned out. Five hundred years in a box drowning over and over again had turned her into someone none of them recognised.

After they had rescued Booker from her clutches, Andy had tried her hardest to reason with her, to remind her who they were. Who _she_ was. He took it as some small consolation that she was alive in the world. Wandering; trying to find herself again. He suspected Andy felt the same.

She continued, “What is it they say? ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil, is for good men to do nothing? _”,_ It’s not really a question. Her eyes looking at him but unseeing.

She asks sincerely, “Are you a good man?” Her eyes probing him for an answer.

Joe was at a loss for words.

He thinks he is. He _tries_ to be. How could someone be inherently good when they have spilled so much blood. Blood that after a particularly gruesome battle he can still see covering his hands for days afterwards. Even after his love has washed it away and whispered sweet words into his ear, he still sees the blood, from his first war to the one hundredth. The blood stays.

“Yes, he is.” Nicky says, certain and unwavering. Joe squeezes his shoulder. _Not as good as you._

She huffs out a small laugh, not unkindly, it’s almost sad. She looks to Booker, something inscrutable showing on her face. Violet places her hands on the table, as though grounding herself, her fingers circling on the worn wood. Her eyes scan everyone in the room and as they come back to Joes she stops. He can’t help himself; he smiles a little. He admires her strength. The conviction of someone who can come into the lion’s den and be so collected.

He likes her, he decides, despite his probably better judgement.

The woman inhales, “Four years ago there was a report of a cargo ship heading from Eastern Europe to The United States. Aboard this ship was, amongst others, eight containers.” Her eyes dip down to follow the way her fingers were tracing the wood grain, “These eight containers held over sixty people in each, most of them women and ch– “, She swallowed, “- children.” Her voice barely a whisper.

She clears her throat, “All of them perished.”

Picking up the cup she took a deep drink, her face wincing at the burning liquid. “We were at the house in Italy and I saw this on the news. I mentioned to him how horrendous it was and could something be done to help. To do something…” Her eyes went to Andy’s, the intensity in her eyes took Joe by surprise.

“What would you have me do? He said”, her lovely face twisting into a sneer. Joe noticed Nile took a step closer as the woman spoke. She was listening intently, they all were.

“Later that night, he thought I was asleep, he was in his study just off the bedroom. I heard him talking on the phone, ‘ _Don't worry my friend, we will have more brought to your shores before the month is out. It is only a small loss. They were mostly children. You will get a good return in a months’ time. You have my word.’”_ She let out a shaky breath, her hands had stilled as she recounted this to the room. She looks to Andy’s and Joe can see the tears pooling in the woman’s eyes, “I had no idea what he was involved in,” she says faintly, “He said his father had left him the money and he invested wisely, every year the houses, the cars, the clothes, _everything_ became more and more obscene. I never thought he could do something – “, Joe realises she is on the edge of frenzy.

She catches herself and drags in a long breath, “I am not a stupid woman. I let my feelings for him make me naïve. I can’t stand by and just bear witness to it. I can’t…” Her voice is gruff with emotion. Joe sees Booker almost reach out and touch her, but he stops himself and crosses his arms over his chest again.

“The youngest they found was two…” She says weakly.

Andy’s grip tightens as she squeezes her palms and Joe can see the whites of her knuckles. Her anger seeping out unintentionally. You do not hurt children.

Everyone is silent.

She leans forward, her elbows on the table, “It took a month whilst I planned what I would do…” she says almost to herself.

“What exactly is it you intend to do?” Nicky asks, bringing her attention back to the conversation, never a question wasted.

She cleared her throat pulling herself out of her reverie.

“I plan to dismantle it, piece by piece.” She says matter-of-factly, leaning back to pick up her cup, half looking at Booker from the corner of her eye whilst taking a sip.

 _Take it apart?_ Joe can’t help the disbelief in his voice when he asks, “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

Her eyes are steady on him, glancing from above the rim of her cup, “You mean how could a _little girl_ carry out such a feat?” Gone is the broken woman from a moment ago, this is the woman from the apartment.

He smiled at her again; he didn’t mean to. Her tone took him by surprise. He didn’t think she was actually listening back at the boat. What civilian would care about a flippant remark when they have a gun pointed to their head. Unless she isn’t a civilian? Hadn’t she got the drop on Booker?

“You didn’t answer the question.” Nile points out, standing only a foot away from the woman now.

Violet lifts her head, “I had thought about turning over my findings to Interpol, but bureaucrats do tend to complicate things unnecessarily.”

Andy smiles thinly, “They do have a tendency to care about what things _look_ like rather than what must be done.”

“My thoughts exactly.”, Violet agrees.

The two women regard each other for a few moments. Joe thinks that Andy likes this woman too from the way her eyes crinkle at the edges.

Andy leans further into the table, “Optics have never really been our forte.”

“I would never have guessed.” She replies with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Nile asks brusquely.

She doesn’t look at Nile, keeping eye contact with Andy, “I have a place; it’s set up for me to go to once I was free of him. It has everything I need to continue what’s been started.”

“You have your own safehouse?” Joe asks incredulously. He doesn’t know why it’s surprising, but it is.

A large smile sneaks onto her face and Joe understands Bookers attraction, “Well, it’s not as nice as _this one but…”_ She says jokingly. Andy huffs out a laugh and they both stare at each other for a moment. Sizing each other up.

“We could help you with your _problem.”_ Andy suggests suddenly.

Violet seems to weigh up her options. Looking from one face to another around the room. She stops on Bookers and her eyes rake across him unsubtly before turning back to Andy. 

“It turns out I am in the market for a group of capable, if not slightly _foolhardy_ , mercenaries.” She leans forward, her forearms folded against the table, her lips pulling into a slow smile, “You wouldn’t know of anyone looking to kill a lot of very bad men for an obscene amount of money, would you?”

_Why yes. Yes, we do._


	6. Booker

_Storuman, Sweden_

They had many safehouses. Most of them they shared together; some were their own. A place where they could retreat away from the horrors and the desperation of the world. Where they could just _be_. Joe and Nicky had Malta, of course. Andy had so many she had probably forgotten where most of them were. Nile was too new to really need a space of her own, her place was with them; and Andy. He had a feeling Nile would follow her to the ends of the earth if need be.

Booker had Paris, in stunningly typical fashion. Small apartments here and there and in one instance a building, he hadn’t been back there since Quynh. The cold that seeped into his bones whenever he thought about his time with her would send him over the edge if he allowed it. He knew the feeling. The need growing at the base of his spine, gnawing at him until he relented. Wanting to send him head first into sweet oblivion.

He could drink himself to death in a matter of days. On one particularly disgraceful spiral he had succeeded within 48 hours waking up in his own vomit and filth in some back alley in Prague.

That was an unfortunate memory.

They had travelled by plane. Violet had contacts it seems in most of the globe. Funny, he had thought her to be alone in the world, like him. She had made a call from a payphone near the airstrip in Tangier. It had been too risky to use the main airports and driving the distance would have taken nearly three days straight.

They had been greeted from the carrier plane by an old pick-up truck. The driver had handed Violet the keys without a word and left in a smaller car before she had slung her bag into the back. They drove for about three hours; he was sitting shotgun. Andy, Nile, Joe and Nicky had somehow fit themselves snugly in the back seat.

He had to admit, he was intrigued. They all were. This woman had come into their lives in a flurry of chaos and he hardly had time to think. He knew he was enthralled by her. His pulse quickened every time her eyes searched his and he knew, _he just knew,_ he was in trouble.

He found himself watching her from the corner of his eye. The way her hand draped casually by the wrist over the steering wheel, her right hand sitting comfortably on the gear-stick. She was relaxed, at least it appeared that way to him. He wondered if she knew she was in the car with a group of immortal warriors, would the quiet look on her face turn into that of horror. If she found out what _he_ was would she shy away from him, averting her crystal-clear eyes.

The sun was streaming in her side window, illuminating her profile with a warm, splendid glow. As he looked at her the soft light gave her a halo only enhanced by her pale thick wavy hair. She glanced to him, he realised he was now outright staring at her, “How far away?” he asked in French, masking his embarrassment. If she noticed she didn’t let on.

“Not far. Were about ten minutes from the water.” She said eyeing the road.

The scenery was beautiful. He had always thought so. The rolling glades of perfect green, they hadn’t passed another car for two hours now. It seemed they were the only ones here.

“The water?”, Asked Nile, her voice thick with sleep. She and Nicky had dozed on the shoulders of the other two in the back. This kind of life is hard to get used to, catching the rest when you can, never knowing when you would be pushed to exhaustion the next.

“Yes,” She said peeking into the rear-view mirror, “There’s a stretch of road that goes through it. My house is located on one of the islands.”

“So, we _don't_ have to go on another boat?”, she asked sullenly, moving to stare out the window, her hand leaning on Andy’s thigh enabling her to perch and get a better look.

Violet smiled into the mirror, “No. No more boats. We can drive to it. About ten minutes.” She said with a smile in her voice. They had come to an uneasy truce, of sorts. Booker was relieved, Nile being the only one in the family really to talk to him about anything other than their work. He didn’t want his infatuation with this woman to hinder the relationship with his new sister. They were now on a stretch of motorway, water reaching out as far as they could see either side of them. It was a dark murky blue. Deep. He spotted ahead what must be the island.

Booker heard Joe wake Nicky gently, his head still resting on his right shoulder. He was conscious of the fact that Joe took the seat furthest from him. He’s surprised he didn’t offer to sit in the bed of the truck at the back, if he’s honest. Small victories.

They drove another five minutes before making it to the landmass, passing on their right a small number of large white painted wooden houses, far back from the road. A large border of thick, dense pine trees neighbouring the other side of the narrow road.

This place is far from any major city, no fences or gates. Wide open spaces. Hell, he’d be surprised if people here locked their front doors, they probably left their keys in their trucks. There were several vehicles almost identical to theirs parked alongside their respective houses. She had gotten this truck deliberately, to blend in.

She took a left turn into the trees. The asphalt disappearing into a dirt track winding through the dark corridor of pines. The dim light managing to break through giving a shadowy gloom inside the truck. He looked at her again, not even trying to be subtle about it this time. Her hands hadn’t moved from their previous positions, the only difference is she now her right had a light grip of the wheel, steering seamlessly through the trees. She turned her head to him. Still winding through the road effortlessly; she smirked at him. _She knows._

“We’re here.”, She said softly as they passed through a large stone archway that came upon them so fast he had to turn his head to catch it behind him. He saw an ancient stone wall possibly ten feet in height disappear into the treeline to the side. Like the outer walls of a castle or fort, an enclosure like this he hadn’t seen since his mortal life. This was something from another time.

They drove up a wide gravel pathway. Row of large trees bordering the path, the large green of perfectly manicured grass spanning out either side of them to the far walls surrounding the place. The path went into a large circular driveway to the front of the house. No, not a house, a _church_. The steeple reaching up as if to pierce the sky itself. Made of large sandstone blocks, blackened with time. It’s four stained glass windows large and looming either side of the ancient wooden door, he suspected they went around the entire building. To the far left of the church there were other two stone outbuildings, newer, more modern but no less huge.

This isn’t your typical safehouse.

Turning the car off she got out closing the door behind her. They all started filing out one by one. Groaning as they stretched. Andy had been particularly quiet on the drive, he wondered what she thought of Violet, of the job. He wanted to talk to her about it, about anything. About everything, but when they were alone or in amicable silence, he just couldn’t muster up the courage. Afraid of what she would say. Afraid of the way she would look at him.

He got out of the tuck too. Watching Violet carefully. She stood looking at the front door with her hands on her hips. He slammed the door shut and she turned to him, startled, as he leaned against the truck, his ankles crossing and his arms folding over his chest. _Very casual._

“Some safehouse.” Joe said doing a 360 of the grounds arching his back.

“It is not very discreet.” Nicky says through a yawn as he stretches his arms over his head.

“No, it isn’t.”, Andy mutters. Nile is awestruck by the size of the place, he can tell.

“Did I say it was discreet?”, Violet asked, tilting her head to the side. They looked amongst themselves and she nodded once emphasising her point, “Whatever you do -,” she said looking at them, particularly at Nile. “-don’t shoot.”

She turned then and brought her fingers to her mouth, heaving in a deep breath she let out a loud whistle that echoed around the building. The high pitch seemingly carrying itself around and echoing through the open space.

“What the fuck was that for?!”, Nile called out, reaching for her handgun. Nicky followed suit, drawing his from the back of his pants. They suspected it was trap, he couldn’t blame them. Neither Joe nor Andy moved, however, seemingly waiting to see what would happen. Violet didn’t look at them. Her hands hovering in front of her mouth.

It was silent for a moment, then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of running on gravel; growing louder. Many feet, light steps but approaching quickly. He tensed then, he had to admit he really _didn’t_ know what to expect from this woman. Pushing himself to his feet, he stands alert.

Violet stood till, waiting. Her hands moved to her hips, her sneakers shifting her weight on the gravel.

He heard the barks before he saw them. Three large Doberman rounding the far-right corner of the church at full speed. Their growling and breathing clear now as they charged at them, at her.

They all shifted their feet as Violet took a step forward, “Grön!”

The animals halted immediately, sliding on the loose stones. They sat at attention as she approached them. Her arms by her sides but very clearly showing her palms. The animals whimpered and started to shift their weight.

He heard her speaking to them, low and imperceptible from where he stood. She said something else and the animals bolted for her again, surrounding her. Excited whimpers, whines and licks covering her arms and hands. She smiled at them, talking to them in hushed tones, crouching down, soothing them in their enthusiasm and following them around as they circled, trying to get closer to her.

She was facing the truck now. He could see her smile and his stomach clenched at the sight, even if it wasn’t directed at him. _He needed a drink…or something._

Suddenly the large ancient door of the church was flung open and they were greeted with a shotgun being pointed in their direction. The man holding it was in his late thirties, maybe. Guessing ages was never really his strong suit. He had a thick head of brown hair and close-cut beard, he was wearing a simple blue shirt over his brawny, thick arms, his jeans and heavy boots were soiled with dirt and mud. His eyes moving over them all, frantically he shouted in Swedish, “You shouldn’t be here, leave now or I’ll shoot!”

He believes him.

The man takes three cautious steps outside, his heavy boots the only noise he can hear over his breathing. He’s facing into the sun, squinting to try and keep them all in view. He spots Nile and Nicky’s guns, not pointed at him but still a danger all the same.

Violet stands carefully, her back still to the man, drawing his attention. The dogs making small cries, vying for her attention once again. She spins slowly and she and the man look at each other.

His arms go limp and he drops the gun on the ground. Andy and Nile share a look.

“You…”, He breathes out, shaky and awestruck. Astonishment plain on his face, his brown eyes wide, “How—I—You’re alive?”.

“Hello, Old Man.” She says in French, giving a small smile, her breezy tone not quite fitting with the way her breath quickened.

They stand there, staring at each other.

The man huffs another heavy breath, disbelief written on his face, his hands go to rub the back of his head and fall back to his sides and Violet smiles at him, _really smiles_. She takes a restrained step forward. The dogs glued to her side, the bearded stranger looks down at them, “Släppa!”, He commands.

They retreat to where they came from, around the corner of the building.

There’s a few more moments of silence between them. None of the family move, the tension of the moment rubbing off on them. _Who are you to her?_ He thinks. Violet and this man are inching closer to each other until they are within arm’s length.

They each reach for the other then. Violets arms thrown around the man’s neck and his around her small waist gripping in a powerful hug. The man picks her up squeezing her closer still before setting her feet back down.

They cling to each other, his nose buried in the curve of her neck, their eyes closed. Booker feels a dark stab of jealousy fill his chest. _Who was this man? Why does he get to hold her like this?_

No one said anything. Nile started to uneasily shift her feet and Nicky and Joe shared a look. Nicky and Nile were still holding their guns. Booker sees Andy eyeing the gun on the ground carefully.

When they finally part, the man brings his hands to cup her delicate face and Booker can see the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you send word?”, The man’s French is quick and accented, his face only a few inches from Violets, her hands holding his forearms, “When I didn’t hear anything I thought – I thought you were…” The man breaks off, his voice trembling and uneven.

“I wouldn’t risk you. I couldn’t.” She replied, also in French, her accent flawless, “I should have sent word, I’m sorry.”, She smiles at him again, a kind and open smile. One Booker has never seen before.

Booker clears his throat, loudly; he couldn’t stop himself. _Enough of this._

_Let go of her. She isn’t yours…Is she?_

They both seemed to come back to themselves, pulling away. Violet lets go of his arms and the man seems to just now realise that they aren’t alone.

“Friends of yours?” He asks, dropping his hands to her shoulders.

“Something like that,” She eyes Booker, then glides over the others curious stares. “This is Victor.”

Victor stands to her side, his arm draped over her shoulder, she carries on, “This is Andy, Joe,”, pointing to each of them, each nodding in return, “Nicky, Nile and this is Booker.” Booker notes the way she doesn’t hold onto him, this _Victor_ , instead crossing her arms over her chest. _He hates him,_ he decides _._

He needs a drink.

“Hello. I apologise for the rude welcome. I was not expecting—I am at loss, really. I do hope you don’t take it personally.”, He smiles, too easily, at the fact he had just threatened their lives.

His smile is stupid.

None of them offer anything to Victor in way of consolation and he loves his family. 

“Let’s go inside.” Violet says after a pregnant pause, quickly looking between Victor and Booker. She goes to the back of the truck and lifts her bag out, before striding inside. Barely a backwards glance at them. _At him._ The man smiles tightly at Booker following her inside, stooping down to pick up his forgotten shotgun on the way.

“Alright then,” Joe says clapping his hands together, “Shall we, my love?”, and he and Nicky start unpacking the back of the truck.

Nile turns to Andy, stuffing her handgun back into the back of her jeans, “What do you make of it?” She asks.

“I don’t know yet.” Andy says reaching out and lightly brushing down Nile’s arm, “Lets see when Copley gets here.” She nods and then heads inside, Nile following close behind.

Joe and Nicky are busying themselves with the bags and the equipment cases, talking in quick muttered phrases, Arabic and Old Genoese combined to make a language that is theirs alone. Booker never bothered to learn either language. It was never really for his ears anyway.

_This fucking woman_.

Clearly his help is not required. He walks inside.

When he enters the open doorway, he is greeted by warm light shining through the stain glass windows around the room. It illuminates the large open-planned living space with warm colours. Where there once would have been an aisle with church pews leading to the alter, there is now a modern pale blue kitchen to the back wall, a large contemporary dining table surrounded by ten or so chairs placed just in front where the dais would’ve been.

To the right there was a large stone fireplace built into the wall, a long plush white sofa and matching armchairs arranged around a coffee table in front of it. The cool stone floor covered in large pale rugs. _Like her apartment in tangier_ , he remembers.

The left-side wall was covered in bookshelves. Books upon books, he had to crane his neck upwards to see the top. A ladder perched against a rail that allows it to slide along the full length of the room, enabling whoever wished it to climb almost to the ceiling. He hasn’t seen something like this outside of a library. It was broken up by a door to the centre of the right wall, cut into the solid bookcase.

As he walks further inside, he sees Violet talking to Andy. Victor standing just behind her. Nile nods and they both follow him through another door on the back wall just to the left of the kitchen. _That must lead to the old rectory._

Violet stands with her arms folded, walking slowly towards him, he meets her halfway, they stop behind the sofa. She sits on the back of it, leaning like he had outside against the truck he joins her. Folding his arms mirroring her they sit for a moment, quiet and peaceful.

“This was your home?” He softly, looking around the room.

“Once upon a time, I suppose it was.” She brings her hands down to her lap and he can see her playing with her fingers. _Fidgeting_. “He’s like a brother to me.” She says quickly, not looking at him. It surprised him, the starkness of her tone.

His eyes study the side of her face, the tilt of her head, “But are _you_ like a sister to _him_?”

She looks up, her eyes reaching into his as if seeing to the very marrow of his bones. The knot in his stomach eases and he releases the breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

Did it matter? The thought came unbidden to him, her eyes providing clarity where before there was none. What did this other man feel for her? Did it matter to him? No, it didn’t. He didn’t want anything else. He’d take whatever he could get. Whatever she was willing to give. He didn’t care, he’d take it.

“It is… complicated.” She says finally. He almost laughs. Of course, it is.

“I’m starting to get the idea that most things in your life are complicated.” He says, teasing her. She doesn’t respond, seemingly content to simply look at him smiling at her.

“He thought you were dead?” He asks.

“I missed the check in.” She says looking to the front door, just passed him, “I thought I was being tracked and I couldn’t risk putting him in danger. Things were already so strained after I got married and I just got him back when I left again and –“ She halts, her eyes going back to his, “I need to send him away and I don’t think he will forgive me.”

“He loves you. He’ll forgive you.” He says, he can hear his own bitterness seep out.

“You think so?”, She says turning into him slightly. So sincere. He nods a little, _of course._

She seemed to go into her mind, her eyes seeing him but not, _“_ I never did thank you, did I?”

“What for?”, He asks distractedly. All he can think about is the heat from their arms pressing together and the fact her left knee is touching his right.

“For… _rescuing_ me, I suppose.” She says playfully. He knows she is teasing him back, his earlier jealousy dampened by the smile that plays on her soft mouth.

“No,” He visibly swallows, “I don’t think you did. You were too busy ordering me around.”

She laughs softly, “I do sometimes get carried away when I decide to do something.” She says as her eyes dart towards his mouth.

_Dieu lui vienne en aide. (God help him)_

“Well, thank you, all the same.”, She finishes, and he wonders if his feeling of her being able to read his thoughts might be true.

The sounds of heavy cases and bags being scraped along the flagstone floor pull them from… _whatever the hell this was_.

Victor appears back through the door at the far end of the room. Booker takes some thrill in the fact he doesn’t appear too pleased at their close proximity. She turns as he approaches her, neither of them bothers to move or stand. Still touching, however barely and he reels from it. He really does.

“I thought I will go and get supplies from the other house? I can make dinner here for you and your… friends.” He peeks at Booker from the corner of his eye. _Jealousy, of course._

“Other house?” Joe asks, breathing hard from hoisting a heavy case holding Nicky’s sniper rifle.

“Yes, you would have passed them on your way in?” Victor answers him, plastering on a smile.

Booker arches an eyebrow to her, “You _own_ the island, don’t you?”

She has the sense to look a bit sheepish under his gaze. “Yes.”, He enjoys the colour creeping up her cheeks.

“Are you sure it is safe here?” Nicky questions, dropping a bag from his shoulder. He is being careful with his words. Unsure about how much Victor knows.

“Yes, its safe.”, She stands and clears her throat. “No one knows about this place. Nothing is under my name.” she says resolutely, her arms still crossed over her chest. “Dinner would be nice, thank you.” She gently says to Victor, bringing her hand out to smooth his arm before walking past him towards the door at the side of the room.

“Come on, I’ll show you all where you will be sleeping.” Nicky and Joe grab their bags and head to follow her through the small doorway. Booker eases himself off the back of the sofa and goes to collect his from the front step. At least they did not leave it in the truck, he thinks as a little smile slides onto his lips.

As he slings it over his shoulder Victor strolls by, giving him a tight smile. He returns with one of his own and follows him with his eyes as he passes through the doorway. Victor walks a few steps and stops when he’s outside, the sun baring down on him he turns and sees that Booker has been watching him.

“Is she in danger?” He asks solemnly in English, playing with a set of keys in his hands.

“Dangerous people are, no doubt, looking for her.” He replies plainly. He sees no need to lie.

Victor lets out an exasperated sigh and places his hands on his hips, “She thinks because of the way she is she can see what’s coming. It makes her reckless.” He sighs, dragging his hand over his face.

“The way she is?”, He asks genuinely confused.

“You don’t know?”, He questions Booker in return, seemingly truly puzzled.

There is a noise from inside and they both turn towards it. “I’ll go and get some supplies,” Victor says after a moment, “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”, as he starts back down the long driveway.

_The way she is. What the fuck does that mean?_


	7. Andy

They had all showered and unpacked what they had brought in the hour it took Victor to return with a truck full of supplies. He had been eager to make dinner, Nicky had spent most of the time in the kitchen area helping him prepare. She and Nile had a room, twin beds. Andy couldn’t help the pang of disappointment at the fact.

The room was spacious, done in the new scandi-style of decorating. Plain minimal furniture, expensive but practical. The pale colours contrasting with the two beautiful stained glass windows above each bed. She recognised this one, ‘The Coronation of the Virgin’. The colours beautifully streaking the room in the blues and greens from the low sun. She was not very fond of churches usually, unnecessary things really. Why would someone need a house to worship that which would be inside themselves? Still. It was nice, all the same. She pulled her tank on over her head and headed out. Not wanting to bother Nile when she emerged from the ensuite bathroom. She had practically squealed when she saw the huge claw foot tub and Andy didn’t think she’d be emerging anytime soon.

As she closed the door she was greeted by a wonderful smell, rosemary, garlic and lamb. Nicky was still helping Victor prepare the meal. Both talking in hushed tones. Joe was sitting in front of the fire, huddled into the large sofa reading a book.

Violet was sitting at a small desk in the right corner of the living space, pouring over a computer screen. The dogs that had greeted them laying by her feet. Passing by the wall of books she saw some old and new editions. Every language, some modern, some old, some older – like her. She found herself grazing her fingers over the tomes as she passed by them. As she approached the dogs gave her away, their heads darting upwards alerting Violet to someone’s presence. Andy was sure they would start to growl but Violet hushed them, voice gently reassuring them to be still.

She turned herself to face her, her elbow leaning on the back of the small chair, “Is your room alright?”

“Yes, thank you.”, She didn’t know what to say suddenly. Violets calm eyes seemed to be assessing her. She turned to face the lofty bookcases, “This is quite a collection.”, Andy says motioning with her hand.

Violet smiles at her, her eyes roaming over the thousands of volumes, “Papa was to blame for it, he would read to me for hours when I was little. I guess it stuck.” She stepped over a dog and pulled an old leather-bound edition of ‘ _Being and Time’_ from the shelf in front of Andy. “I remember the first time he read this to me, I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but he read it with such… _enthusiasm._ I find that I read it every few years or so, hoping to understand why he loved it so much.”

“He sounds like a good man.” She remarks.

“Yes, I suppose he was.”, She places the book back on the shelf and strokes the spine of it before moving to stroll towards the fireplace, “I didn’t talk for years when I came to live with them, I assume it was a way of him feeling like he was actually having a conversation with me.”

She didn’t speak? Saying that how often had they all been so traumatised into selective mutism over the centuries. _What happened to her?_

She thinks of Quynh, seeing her love being forced into the Iron Maiden had nearly caused Andy to break. Only the hope of finding Quynh kept her sane over those long heartbroken decades of searching; and every year since. Well, since they found her again. Even then she never really had her back, did she? Too much time, too many deaths drowning over and over at the bottom of the ocean had turned her hard and unfeeling. She had tried to kill Andy. Only the others had stopped her. She ached for the loss of her. The loss of having her then losing her only to finally, _finally_ have her back, alive. The second loss was harder.

_Is harder. It is harder._

Violet is talking, asking her a question, “I’m sorry?”, Andy says, blinking back into the present.

“I said, when will this Mr. Copley arrive? You gave him the instructions?”

“He’ll be here by morning.”

Violet nods slowly, “You trust him?” She asks sincerely.

She did. Well, she trusts him as much as she trusts anyone really. Her measuring stick for these kinds of things has been bent and broken more in the last few months than she’d care to admit. She trusts her family, even Booker to an extent, but that was something else entirely.

They’re all still reeling from the business with Merrick, with Booker, with Quynh. She knows she still holds it against Copley when he makes a mistake or can’t answer a question quickly enough, concerned if he’s searching his mind for a lie. She knows she loses her temper, but what the fuck does he expect? He’s doing this to make a difference, he’s helping them to make a difference. To try to make a difference is all they can do.

Violet’s staring at her now, waiting patiently for an answer, “I do.” She half-lies.

“We’ll be able to get started once he arrives, there’s more to show you all. We have so much work to do.”

Andy can’t stop herself from wondering what made this woman the way she is. Violet turns to look at the fire. Joe, she realised hasn’t turned a page since they’ve been standing there. He’s been listening in, of course. Andy thinks Joe likes this woman; he likes those who don’t take shit. People who do what they say they’re going to do. He likes decisive people.

Andy recognises that she trusts this woman. She does not know why, not really. The feeling of dread she has had for months now dissipating slowly but surely. She has this intense feeling of protectiveness about her, like Nile but entirely different. She’s followed her gut for thousands of years, caused more good than bad. She doesn’t allow the certainty to solidify yet, she needs time.

“Dinner is served!”, Victor announces from the other side of the room, placing a leg of lamb as a centrepiece.

Violet smiles at Andy then heads over to the table to help set the cutlery.

Joe spies Andy out the corner of his eye, she sits down next to him as he closes his book.

“What’s worrying you Boss?”

She propped her elbow onto the back of the sofa, “I have this feeling, have had it since this whole…. _thing_ started. What do you think?

“I feel like she’s not telling us everything.”, Joe says leaning forward, the fire casting warm light across his face.

“I agree. When Copley gets here, I think we should brief him.”

“OK.”

“C’mon lets eat.” She says as she gets up.

* * *

Victor and Violet were each seated at the opposite ends of the table. Booker sat to Violets left, next to Nile and Andy. Joe and Nicky were seated on the other side. The dogs sitting behind Violet patiently, hoping for some morsel of food to be sent their way.

The conversation had been stilted at first, everyone unsure what they could or couldn’t say around Victor. None of them being able to speak freely seemed to cast an awkward air over the dinner.

“This is really good.”, Nile offers politely to Victor, cutting into the lamb.

“Thank you! But I must confess, I am but a novice compared to this great man,” He says motioning to Nicky who colours slightly under everyone’s gaze.

“Prego.”, Nicky raises his glass of wine in salute.

“Very humble.”, Joe teases, his arm casually draped on the back of Nicky’s chair.

Everyone falls into silence again, cutlery and glasses making the only sound.

“So, Victor, what do you do?”, Nile asks trying to fill the dead air. She doesn’t enjoy silence, Andy realised this when whenever she got a free moment she would listen to music, the noise helping to calm her thoughts.

The man is trying to chew around a mouthful of lamb before he answers, “I’m an architect.”

“Oh, wow.”

“He did this place.”, Violet brings her glass to her lips, smiling at Victor.

“Well it’s really beautiful. I’ve never seen something like this.” Nile says motioning with her hand to the room.

“Thank you, it’s my favourite project, I must admit. Vi gave me full reign to do what I wanted.”

“You have a much better eye for that sort of thing.”, Violet says fondly. They both raise a small toast to each other, smiling.

Andy notices the way Bookers jaw tenses as he keeps his eyes cast downwards towards his clearly very interesting meal.

“What is it you all do?”, Victor returns the earlier question.

Everyone tenses, Nile’s forkful of food sitting in her mouth, her eyes wide, Nicky and Joe both playing with their glasses. Booker doesn’t even pretend to act casual, staring openly at Violet who’s looking at her food. Andy takes another long drink.

“They work for me.”, Violet says cutting into her lamb.

“…Doing?”

Violet takes a bite of food, chewing slowly, not looking up. Victors eyes dart to everyone else at the table, everyone avoiding his gaze.

“Vi?”, concern lacing Victor’s voice.

“Can we talk about this later?” She says gently.

“Alright.”, Victor complies. Andy can tell he’s pissed off. He catches her eye and they both share a long stare.

“Would anyone like more wine? Or, Vodka?”, Victor asks, changing the subject.

“I could use a top-up.”, Andy shakes her now empty glass, the melting ice-cubes clinking softly.

“Of course!”, He exclaims, before getting up to fetch the vodka from the freezer. She had to admit this was good vodka, she could feel her lips numbing with it. Her legs felt heavy. She had forgotten what it was like to really get drunk, the buzz always wearing off quickly when her body would burn it away…or absorb it…or whatever it does.

Did.

Whatever it _did_.

She forgets herself sometimes. She wonders why but of course its because she still has them all around her. She forgets that she’s different now because they’re still with her. They treat her differently. She knows they try not to, but how could they not? The armour, the bullet-proof vests, the way they constantly cover her from every side. None of them are ever far from her now.

She’s pulled from her thoughts when Victor sits down and pours her another as he places another ice filled glass next to himself, “Would anyone else like one?” He asks again, motioning the bottle around the table. He lands on Violet, motioning the bottle towards her, “Would you like some vodka, Vi?”

A strange look passes over her face before she answers, “I don’t like vodka, you know that.”

“Bien sûr, comment pourrais-je oublier? _Of course, how could I forget?”,_ He mutters as he pours himself at least four fingers.

The dinner carries on much the same. Stilted conversation relaxing into a more natural rhythm.

“How did you come to own this place?”, Joe asks Violet leaning over his empty plate, his arms resting on the table.

“Our father, he owned the small properties that we passed coming in. Slowly but surely he amassed the land to most of the island. He passed it on to us when he died.”

“Passed it on to you, you mean.”, Victor slurred.

Violet smiled at him, indulging him in his hazy half-drunk dig, “Yes. Passed it on to me.” She took a sip of wine before continuing, “I bought the full thing a few years after that.”

“How old were you?”, Nicky asks

“Thirteen.”

“Thirteen?”, Andy cant keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Pa trusted me with the land, he knew I’d keep it safe, keep it ours.”, Violet said, her eyes flinching towards Victor, “Victor was going off to school, he knew that I’d be here longer. Little did he know that Victor would make this his home.”

“Thirteen is so young, to have that responsibility.”, Nicky adds. Tilting his head to the side. He feels sympathy for the child forced into an adults role.

“I was never really thirteen, I’m convinced I was born middle aged.”, Violet says playfully. Andy sees Booker smile at his plate and peek up at Violet. They both look at each other and smile. _Oh._

Victor clears his throat and Violet turns to look at him, Booker carries on watching his plate

“I remember when you were eleven, doing fathers bookkeeping and getting into long theological discussions at the dinner table. Ma pulled her hair out listening to you two go on and on.”

Andy knows what he’s doing, he’s staking claim.

_See here? This is history between us, years of conversations, of plans, of laughter that you, Booker, have no knowledge of. This right here is just for us. Not you._

Men, they honestly have no clue, do they?

“Bookkeeping at eleven?”, Nile asks.

“It helped pass the time. There’s not much to do around here.”, Violet glosses over the fact that it is indeed very strange for an eleven year old to do such a thing.

“It was either that or learn Greek, or Latin –“, Victor starts, “Or Mandarin”, Both he and Violet spoke in unison at the end, Victor giving a faux shiver and Violet giggled at his silliness. Andy saw Bookers shoulders physically clench and she did feel a pang of pity for him.

“How many languages do you speak?”, Booker asks calmly. His even tone bringing Violets attention back to him.

Victor answers for her, “My love here speaks eight, I myself only the three. She’s very adept at picking up the language wherever she stays. Pa would show her off whenever they would go travelling together.”

_My love. Not much chance of anyone missing that._

“Eight languages?!”, Nile gasps out.

“What? You think that’s a lot?”, Nicky asks a small smile quirking at the end of his lips. Andy and Joe smirk into their glasses.

Andy should really eat some more, she can feel the fuzziness creeping in. She thinks she feels tired, but she hasn’t been less tired in a while. It was strange, is this what mortals felt like whenever they drank? Restless and exhausted in the one breath?

“We used to play twenty questions in ancient Greek when we were younger, I have forgotten but Violet hasn’t, have you Vi?”

Violet shakes her head slowly.

“You should hear her recite Homer’s Iliad. It’s quite, quite dull.”, He laughs.

Andy thinks, _to hell with it._

“Do you think Greek is dull?”, Andy asks in Ancient Greek, the Greek she and Quynh used when they travelled. Travelled with Lykon. When they searched to find Joe and Nicky. It rolls off her tongue like she’s spoken it every day of her long, long, long life.

Violet smiles, slow and lazy, everyone has gone silent. Victors face is just a fucking picture.

“I think that the things we gain from the old world translates to what is here in the now. Nothing is new, only repeated.”, Violet answers in the same ancient dialect., “To others that may be dull, but I like the repetition. It makes me think I can see what’s going to happen next. Makes me think there is lessons there, in the tedious, if only we looked.”

Her accent is a little off, but Andy can’t fault her diction, “You think history really repeats itself?”

“Doesn’t it? What has happened in the past ten, twenty, fifty years that hasn’t happened in the last ten thousand? We are creatures of habit, unfortunately, and we do not seem to heed the lessons history brings to our doorstep. Even with everything going on in the world people still only care about their own little corner. This is human nature, I believe, but we can be better if only given a chance.” She spouted off the antiquated language back at Andy as though she had been speaking it her whole life. Only Joe and Nicky followed the flow of conversation, Nile and Booker sat, mouths agape, eyes going from Andy to Violet, clueless as to the contents.

“Haven’t humans had long enough? To figure out what’s right?”, Andy asks her, a little defeated.

“Yes… I suppose, but we have been run by men. It stands to reason we should be a little slow on the uptake.” Violet says as deadpan in a dead language as she can muster and Andy can’t hold in her laughter. She lets out a loud roar and Violet laughs with her. Nicky and Joe giggle under their breath, not taking Violets broad assumptions too much to heart. Nile, Booker and Victor look lost.

After a moment they all calmed down to sit in genial silence. Everyone finishing up their meals.

“You played twenty questions?”, Nile asks trying to steer the conversation back to the land of the English speaking variety.

“Yes, all the time.”, Victor replies.

“I am confused, what is twenty questions?”, Nicky asks Joe, his brow furrowed a little.

“A game, habibi, you have to answer twenty questions to gain the answer, you can only ask yes or no. It is an old game Nicolo.”

Nicky hums in acknowledgement, “Ah, yes, I forgot. I do know it.” He says matter of fact.

“Would you like to play a round, Vi?”, Victor asks, “I do believe you are reigning champion.”

“You were always to easy to guess.”, Violet retorts.

“I’m sure I’ve gotten better at it since we were young.”

“I don’t want to play this game.”, She takes a sip from her wine, eyeing him wearily.

“Fine, Fine.”, He waves his hand, “Or…we could play the book game?”, He raises his eyebrows, challenging her.

“No.”

“Wait, what’s the book game?” Nile asks looking between them both.

“It’s nothing, just a stupid game we’d play when we were bored, and Victor had too much money burning a hole in his pocket.” She leans into her palm, her elbow resting on the table.

“How do you play?” Nicky asked, sincerely curious, leaning forward to fold his arms on the table.

“Would you like to...?”, Victor asks waving his arm across dramatically.

“Oh, no. Please I insist.” Violet says sarcastically, smiling into her wine glass as she drains that last of it.

“The rules are simple. You may choose any book from the shelves, pick a page and read aloud the first three words of any sentence. If she can complete the sentence within three seconds, she wins. Outside of three seconds you win. The only rule is you must tell her the page number before reading the sentence.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Any book?” Joe’s eyebrows are in his hairline, “ _Any of those books_?”, He says pointing his thumb behind him, “There must be thousands.”

She nods at him, before looking down at her fingers skimming the base of her empty glass.

“Some game.” Andy says downing the rest of her vodka rocks.

“We didn’t have internet.” Violet jokes, “I read a lot.”

“A lot?!”, Victor exclaims beaming at Violet, he points to her, “This woman can read a five-hundred-page book in an hour. They studied her at the Karolinska Institute, for months, Ma was furious. They wanted to send her to the states to have her tested.”

“An hour?”, Andy asks, unconvinced, glossing over the overflow of information Victor is spouting.

Violet looks at Victor from under her lashes, “Depends on how interesting I find the _book_.”, She smiles at Booker as gets up to retrieve another bottle of wine from the kitchen.

“How can you read that quickly?” Nile asks turning in her chair.

“It’s not _reading,_ exactly- “, she says over her shoulder as she picks the bottle up from the countertop, “I just remember what I see.”, She gestures with the wine bottle as she walks around the table, filling Joe and Nicky’s glasses, then finally Bookers. He has been incredibly quiet.

As Violet sits down at the head of the table, Booker leans forward slightly , “You remember what you see?”, He asks it quietly, like the rest of them aren’t looking, like it’s a secret.

Violet stares at him for a moment, doubtful of what she should say. Andy realises now that it _was_ a secret. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Her defences lowered by the wine.

“I…uh, well…”, Violet falters, looking down at her fingers on the table

“Like photographic memory?”, Andy offers. She had known people with photographic memory before, it was remarkable, but she could not help but think how awful it would be. To remember _everything_ in such detail. She took a long drink of the vodka, burning its way down her throat. Calming the sudden tension crawling up her spine.

“It’s a little more than that. Vi has an eidetic memory, but its not just what she sees, it’s everything. She remembers everything.”, Victor announces before taking a large draught of his wine. Everyone, but Violet and Booker turning to give him their attention. “She tested off the charts…in everything. Languages, Sciences, History, Mathematics…”, he leaned forward, leaning into Joe almost conspiratorially, “They measured her IQ at one eighty –“

“That test is flawed at best.”, Violet interrupted, turning her head sharply to Victor. Andy could tell she was irritated, her eyes cautioning Victor.

“- she could’ve gone to any school in the world, they were all desperate to have her.”, Victor finishes, looking very pleased with himself.

“I had no intention of becoming a lab rat, poked and prodded by inferior minds, questioning why me, why it was _me_ that got this….this _gift.”,_ she practically spat the last word.

“That’s how you made the program…?”, Booker asks Violet, leaning towards her, his face a mixture of awe and something else.

Violet looks at Booker, both of them leaning inward to each other, Andy feels sorry for Violet all of a sudden. She had been railroaded into divulging this information about herself, when it clearly made her feel uncomfortable.

Victor remained perfectly clueless.

“Einstein’s IQ was one sixty, for fucks sake.” Victor continued, not heeding the warning. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. Andy saw the way he looked at Violet, longingly. She also saw the way he looked at Booker. Envy, mistrust.

Andy leaned into Nile, “Between you and me, Einstein was a real dweeb.”, Andy whispered to her, earning a small laugh.

Her eyes light up when she smiles, filled with light. Nile warms her. There is no other way to describe it. She pushes the thought away, bringing the glass to her lips again. Nile went back to looking at Violet after a moment.

_She’s too old for this shit._

“So, you’re a genius?”, Nile asks, dripping with cynicism.

“So they say.”, Violet replies simply. She turned away from Booker and leaned her elbows on the table. Her eyes scanning their faces.

“That would explain a lot.”, Joe says, a cheeky grin on his face, easing the tension in his typical _Joe_ way.

Violets shoulders drop a little, relaxing, she smiles back at him.

Violet gets up and starts to clear away the dishes, taking them to the kitchen and racking them up in to the dishwasher. Booker joins her, helping her load the plates and glasses. They don’t speak, too much to say probably.

Andy gets up and she feels a little dizzy, her legs suddenly filled with lead and she has to lean onto the table to steady herself.

“Hey, are you ok?” Nile’s concern is etched on her face as she brings a hand to Andy’s shoulder.

She reels from the contact, but first things first, “Yeah, I gotta go pee.”

Nile smiles at her and goes to sit down on the sofa. Nicky and Joe are sitting playing footsy under the table, like they’ve ever been subtle a day in their lives.

She makes her way back to their room. Her and Nile’s rooms. The room they’re sharing. By themselves.

She’s drunk. How many glasses did she have? She remembers three being poured by Victor at dinner then there was the one when she just sat down at the table.

When did she become such a lightweight?

Oh, yeah. Right.

She went to the toilet and after pulling her jeans and underwear down she sat and realised she couldn’t remember a time when she felt this drunk. It seemed to be getting worse. Clearly the jetlag and constant travelling over the past two weeks were catching up to her.

_Sure, that’s it. It’s the travelling, forget the fact that now your mortal. You can be hurt. You can die. You can leave them. You can leave her._

She needs to sleep. After washing her hands she peels off her clothes and closes the large thick curtains over the tall church windows. The room darker but the light still peaking through. She lay down in the bed and she thanks God, or whoever, for it being so comfortable.

Tomorrow Copley will get here, and they can get to work.

Yes, that will help. She was sure of it. She just needed to start the next job.

She didn’t dream usually, but that night she dreamt of Nile. She was sitting by the edge of the Mediterranean. The sand and the sky framing her in such a way that it seemed she couldn’t be real.

It was a good dream.


	8. Booker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, and feelings, and some bad decisions.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. Victor had pulled Violet outside to take a walk around the grounds, no doubt trying to gleam all information he could from her. Joe and Nicky had retired to their room. Nile had headed for bed with one of the many thousands of books, content just to be near Andy should she need anything.

He sat on the large sofa, nursing a glass of bourbon, his weight sinking into the softness and his head feeling a little light with the alcohol. It wouldn’t last, never does.

The door opens to his right and Violet steps through, the dogs following behind her, she sends them back out, as she toes off her sneakers, exposing her bare feet, and he assumes they go around the back of the building to their kennels. He places his glass on the coffee table as she walks towards him.

“What did you tell him?”, he turned so his leg folds under him and his arm rests along the back of the sofa.

“Half-truths. He knew I was lying.” She says as she sits down next to him. She seemed defeated.

“He loves you.”, They both know he means it differently to the first time he told her.

“I know he does.” She rakes her hands through her hair, “I sometimes think if I wasn’t so young when I came to live here with them, if we had been older when we met, would I feel differently towards him?”, Her contemplative face lit up with the warm glow of the fire, “Pa knew, how he felt about me. Long before I admitted it to myself, or Victor admitted it to me. Pa worried about him. About _us._ ”

“How so?”

“I see so much. Notice so much, I struggled with it.” She looked at him with such sadness it made his chest ache. “It’s like I have the universe swirling around in my head and at times I think it will crush me or drive me mad. It’s not so bad now, but when I was younger Victor was all that kept me sane. He kept me here.”

“It is not your fault you cannot love him the way he wants you too,” He wants to take the pain away, the sadness that seems to be as palpable to him as his own.

“I know. I often wondered, growing up, how much simpler it would have been. He thinks that we would be happy together, when in truth, I would probably eventually have to leave him.”

It takes him by surprise, her brutal honesty. That she could contemplate treating her _brother_ with such cold logic. But who was he to judge about family dynamics? His thoughts must be showing on his face because she smirked at him.

“Have I shocked you?” She couldn’t hide the mirth in her voice.

He shrugged his shoulder a little, “Not at all. I just wonder why you’d think you would have to leave?”

“I…get bored.”

“Hence the _husband_.” He said, bitterness tinging his tone.

“Indeed.”, she responded as she swiped his half empty glass from the table and swallowed the amber liquid down in one swig. He followed the line of her throat as she swallowed, suddenly feeling very flushed.

She placed the glass back down and stared at the fire for a moment.

“I drift, sometimes. When it all gets too much up here,” She says as she taps her temple, “I can sometimes disappear inside myself. It’s like I’m not here at all. Like I’m living in a stranger’s body.” She clears her throat and carries on, “It’s better when I’m… _stimulated.”_

That caught his attention. Stimulated. God, the images that brings to his mind.

“Stimulated?”, He tried to hide his awkward interest in her choice of word.

“David is _many things_ , but he was never boring.” She was goading him now, he knew it. Daring him to take it further, _ask me how not boring he was, ask me how he kept my interest._

He realises then how at her mercy her husband must’ve been, must still be. Every move, every word planned out. Every possible reaction already thought out and carefully weighed up. How many men have been in her thrall? He remembered the way her husband had manhandled her, the way he seemed to be practically bewitched by her. He wasn’t even angry when she bit him, for fuck’s sake.

How many men throughout her life had pledged themselves to her every whim? _Mortal_ _men,_ he thought darkly. How many men had centuries of life experience to draw on? _Very few._ How many men had seen through her façade like he had? _Fewer still._ He’s not about to admit defeat quite yet.

“I would think that this,” He gestured around the room, “kind of _domesticity_ would drive you over the edge, given your proclivity for… _excitement.”_ He said it matter-of-factly and he enjoyed the slight surprise that seemed to seep through her stoic face. _I see you. And I see through you._

She recovered herself quickly, “That’s why Pa left it to me.”

“The land?”

“Not just the land, the money, all the properties. Everything. He left it to me, to keep me here, on this _planet_. With these people. With Victor. He left it to me to ground me.”

“How did he know you wouldn’t just sell it all and…. _drift_.”

“He made me promise.”, she leans back on the sofa, her head resting on the back of it. Her hair lightly brushing his hand, “ _Our word is what makes us.”_ She says it in a deeper voice, clearly quoting her father.

A few moments go by and he has the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her, to make sure she’s real.

“Tell me about this, Mr. Copley.”, She says, changing the subject. He doesn’t miss it.

“He’s British, he worked for the Americans. He deals in the tech side of things.”

“CIA or FBI?”

“CIA – He and I are old contacts.”, He hates the way his lies by omission roll off his tongue. He wants to tell her, tell her how he betrayed his family. How he almost got Andy killed. How he’s weak. How much he wants her. How he’s a coward.

“You have contacts in the CIA?”, She turns her head towards him, the fire making her eyes dance.

“I did. He left about half a year ago.”

“What happened half a year ago?”, She knew he wasn’t telling her everything.

“There was a job gone wrong.”, _Shit. Don’t tell her_.

“And…”

“I made a deal with a man, he went back on his word,” _How could he get out of this?_

“Copley worked for this man?”, Of course she’d put the two together.

“Yes. He works with us now. He helps us, finds us work.”

“Killing people.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes we help rather than hurt. Mostly there is always someone who gets hurt.”

“Who got hurt the last time?”

“They –“, he started before correcting himself, “… _We_ all did.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, both simply looking at each other. She seemed to be staring straight into his soul. The way the fire made her eyes, her face, her pale hair glow. Her mouth was parted slightly, the perfect cupids bow of her soft lips, showing just a hint of her even white teeth. Her chin flowing into the soft line of her jaw. She wore a plain black t-shirt, the soft scoop of the neck showing her clavicles and the soft swell of her breasts. She had freckles, he realised. The small speckles littering her chest, did they cover her? She was so close, all he had to do was lean in, would she meet him in the middle?

“Why did you jump in front of the bullet?”, She whispered, like it wasn’t really a question for him, but rather a thought said out loud. She was still looking at his eyes, he realised then that she had seen him openly raking his over her.

“What?”, _Think of something. Anything. Think of a reason. You needed her alive, didn’t you? No. You needed to answer the questions about her husband._

“On the boat, Andy would’ve killed me. You jumped in front of the bullet.”

What difference did it make now? He wanted her, he had since he first saw her in the cramped apartment. Surrounded by her books, drinking her coffee, barefoot, hair damp, hair blowing from the open truck window, sipping wine, smiling at _him._ He wanted her. Wanted her so much he barely remembered what it felt like to just want. _It all came down to this, didn’t it?_

He sighed, “ _You know why.”_

_How could she not?_

She moved then, propping herself up to throw her leg over his thighs so that she was straddling him. Her hands resting on his shoulders, he had to pull his leg out from underneath him, so he was sitting upright. His hands moved to her jean clad thighs, his fingers flexing into the soft lines of the muscle tensing underneath.

She softly pushed his hair back with her right hand, her fingers gently scraping his scalp and he closed his eyes to the delicious shiver he felt run down his spine. Her hands drop to the hem of his shirt and before he can think of what he is doing she peels it off him and tosses it on the armchair to the side. The warm low heat of the fire licks across his skin, making it prickle and rise. He’s practically panting, and she’s barely touched him.

She ran her hand down to graze his neck, he closes his eyes to the feeling, her hands soft and warm, she moves to his shoulder and she presses her thumb hard into the hard, round muscle. His eyes spring open and she looks at him from under her lashes.

His heart is hammering in his chest, he can hear the roar of blood in his ears. She sees everything, remembers _everything_ , that had been what her brother had said. She leans into him. The weight of her shifting and then her chest is pressed against his and her lips are a centimetre from his own and he can’t think straight.

She licks her lips and her eyes are pools of water he could drown in, he feels her thighs tense under his hands and he wants to bury himself in her so far that he cant tell where he ends and she begins. She imperceptibly rolls her hips against his hardening cock, the stiff fabric of his jeans providing more friction and he can’t help but shudder out a breath. _God, it’s been so long._

He realises now that even with hundreds of years’ experience he’s completely outgunned.

Her thumb is still pressed hard into his shoulder, and she breathes her words slowly onto his lips, “Where is your bruise?”

_My what?_

“My, _what_?”, he pants out, his forehead creasing.

“It’s been two days since she shot you.”, her voice soft against his skin, her eyes darting to his mouth then back to his eyes. He knows he is in trouble; he should get away. He needs to collect his thoughts. _Fuckfuckfuck-_

She leans away from him; his hands go to her waist to stop her moving further away.

She rolls her hips again and the groan escapes his throat before he has a chance to stifle it, his cock at full hardness, she must be able to feel him, “Where. Is. Your. Bruise?”

_Think, for fuck’s sake!_

“I… I…had armour on, underneath.”, He lies thinly. Unable to reason with the weight of her atop him and her burning gaze.

“ _Armour_ …?”, She slowly repeats it back to him, dragging out the word to make her point. He can hear the ridiculousness of it.

“ _Violet…_ ”, He says it like a plea, and he is. He _is_ pleading with her. _Please don’t pull at this thread. Just leave this one alone. Do not make me lie to you anymore than I have to._

She moves her hands from his shoulders and sweeps them up his neck, gliding her fingers over his jaw. He can’t remember a time when he had been touched as gently as this, but it didn’t feel kind, it felt… _clinical._

“I thought it was strange, I suspected blanks, but then why would she fire the gun at me? Unless it was part of a plan; to create trust.” She says it as she lightly smooths her fingers over his stubble. Her eyes turn harder and for the first time he senses it from her, the _danger_.

She’s waiting for him to respond, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin, and her solid weight still resting on his straining legs.

He feels like he could crawl out of his own skin. He can’t tell her; the others would never forgive him. Not again. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it.

He had to lie. “It was a real bullet. I was wearing armour. You, yourself said we were expensive. We are. We deal in dangerous situations with dangerous people. We must protect ourselves. We use the best equipment.”

He knew it was a long shot, most body coverings and protective equipment, if your shot through it he knew he should still have a mark, if not a wound from such a close-range shot. If she was as smart as her _brother_ said she was, he bet she knew that too.

He moved his right hand to her jaw, the pads of his fingers brushing over smooth skin. He couldn’t believe this was the first time he was touching her like this.

She closes her eyes and leans into his touch. Did he have the same effect on her?

“I would never harm you.” He tries to put every sincere fibre of his being into the words. Her eyes search his and she softens again, the cold distant look of a moment ago melting into something else. Not suspicion or anger, but pain.

“I have no room left for secrets.” She moved to get up and he grabbed her waist more firmly, spinning them so she was laying against the seat cushions and he was pinning her in place. She didn’t move to fight, she simply looked at him with those calm eyes.

_Did she expect this? Had she expected this of him?_

He couldn’t think about the way her legs parted for him. How he seemed to fit perfectly into the space her body created. He didn’t want to think about the feel of her below him, so different from the first time but so similar. Her hands were held against his chest and he tried hard to push the feeling of _want_ down.

He was so tired of this bullshit. He was tired of the lies and the deceit and of the ever-fucking visceral loneliness. Wasn’t he due something other than the endless grief? Had he not done enough to pay it back, over and over, again and again and _fucking_ again. Yes, he had done wrong. Wrong by his family and wrong by his morals, but he was fucking trying.

He thought he had finally found respite. Finally, after so many lonely years he had finally found a smidgen of peace. Peace to be with his found family again and to make it right with them. With all of them. To try to get back to work, to make a difference, to try to ‘ _do some good’._

He couldn’t though, could he? Of course not. Because the world, or universe, or God or whatever the fuck it is that keeps there bodies intact but leaves their souls split into pieces to be left amongst the ruins of this world, won’t let him forget, would it? Was he so beyond help? Beyond redemption that the higher power that keeps him here, on this planet in this butchered husk, would send him this woman to torment the fucking life out of him.

What makes her so entitled to answers? Answers he doesn’t have. What would he tell her, that he’s just as clueless as the day he died and woke up again and again choking on the end of a rope in the blistering cold? 

No, he’s no wiser than the next depressive fool with too much time on his hands. She has no more room for secrets, well he has no more room for anything else. Secrets are all he has, and he would be damned if he’d let someone lecture him on it.

The anger in him was palpable now, he could feel it pooling in his gut and the warmth of the fire was nothing compared to the heat he felt spreading across his neck and chest.

Her face was still so maddeningly calm. She was staring at him, like he was _boring_ her. Her mouth a hard line and her chin set to a determined jut. Clueless to the torrent of feeling he had inside.

“So, what if I have _secrets_? Do you not have them?”, He spat the words at her. Venom dripping from every word

She remained silent. How perfectly _infuriating_.

“You think this is some elaborate plan of your husband, huh? Is that it?”, She quirked an eyebrow at him, her meaning obvious; _Well, is it?_

“I had never heard of your husband before you said his name in that shitty apartment. I had every intention of killing him on that fucking boat. I _have_ every intention of killing him still; not because of the many horrible things I’m sure he has done, because the thought of him _breathing_ makes my blood boil. Because he has touched _you -_ ”

A small gasp, or was it a sigh?, escaped her mouth, her lips parted and she seemed about to speak, but he carried on, “Because _all_ I can think about is you; and the fact that you _know_ this and still choose to believe that there would ever be a circumstance in which I would do anything to harm you…”, He trails off, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself in check. He’s said too much. He knows this. It all spilled out before he could think and all he wants to do is run away and hide.

The moments stretch out between them.

She licks her lips and her voice is barely a whisper, “I…”

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t dare to move, he wants her to finish what she’s saying because if she doesn’t, he’s convinced he’ll die for real.

“I…”, she trails off again.

He wouldn’t meet her in the middle with this one, he wouldn’t extend an olive branch. _He wouldn’t._

She closes her eyes and turns her head towards the fire, the long line of her neck exposed just begging to be bitten. _Focus!_

She squeezes her eyes shut and the look of pain on her face makes his gut wrench, “You… _what?”_ He says it as gently as he can.

She turns her head to face him again and he can see the shining line of tears trail down the side of her face, “I am so sick of _thinking..._ ”, she says, and then she crashes their mouths together.

Her hands squirm there way up and around his neck and he can hear her soft moans as she licks into his mouth. He grabs her jaw in one hand and her hair in the other and all he can do is hold on. The kiss sends electricity to his toes. Her breathing coming in hard pants now and he remembers again, the _wanting._ Pulling back slightly she chases his lips as he retreats and she stares at him before sighing, “ _Please._ Make me stop thinking.”

His cock hardens at the sheer need in her voice and what can he do but give her what she wants. He nods and he kisses her again. Kisses her like he’s been wanting to since he saw her sip her coffee in that fucking apartment. She tastes like bourbon and something else, something uniquely _her._ Her hands are in his hair tugging not-so gently and she writhes against his growing erection. Their jeans doing nothing but aggravate the need for closer touch.

He kneels up then and starts to undo her jeans, sliding his thumbs into the belt-loops he pulls the jeans and her panties off in one fell swoop as she peels off her t-shirt impatiently and unhooks her bra, leaving her completely exposed. Her pale skin glows in the firelight. Her small breasts perfect with delicate rosebud nipples, down the flat plain of her stomach to the soft patch of pale blonde hair. He wants to bury his face in her and make her scream. He trails his fingers over the smattering of freckles he sees on her stomach, a small mole just to the left of her belly button. He wants to map them all out, commit each one to memory. Make a mark over each so that he will always be there, forever imprinted on her skin, like these freckles.

She leans up, a slow smile on her face, and hooks her fingers into his belt and pulls him down on top of her again. His hands are everywhere, roaming over her body greedily. How could she be so perfectly proportioned? He wants to lick every inch of her skin, bite and kiss and mark her like an animal. He kisses her and the way she moans into his mouth sends a wild thrill through him, he can’t stop himself from practically whimpering at the way she’s grinding against his body. His skin prickling with the anticipation. He feels her undo his belt and zipper, pushing down the top of his jeans and underwear eagerly, exposing his large heavy cock to the air making him ache.

Her warm fingers encircle his length and he has to hiss through his teeth to stop the groan he knows is sitting in his chest. He pumps into her hand a few times before dragging his mouth away from hers to ask, “Still thinking?” He smiles darkly at her. She lets out a short laugh then grabs the back of his head pulling his lips to hers in another searing kiss. _How had he gone without this for so long?_

 _“_ Fuck me. _”_ She pants into his mouth between kisses. It’s all he can do not to come on the spot.

He takes his cock in hand and guides it to her exposed entrance. He rubs it against her clit then back again and the way she moans has him reeling. She’s so wet already he has to stop himself from driving into her too roughly. He moves slowly, the tip of his cock just breaching her then retreating. He makes sure to keep eye contact, seeing her pupils blown and the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead keeping him grounded and present.

He carries on his slow tease for a few more small thrusts, then when he cant take anymore he ploughs roughly into her causing her to jolt up the sofa, a loud cry escaping her lips he has to cover her mouth with his right hand. He must still for a moment, the tight, wet heat so overwhelming he has to force himself back from the brink. _Calm the fuck down._

All he wants to do is devour her. To remove every trace of every man that’s been here before. He wants to own her, as surely as he’d let her own him given half the chance. He would do it, be anything she needed him to be. God, _She feels so good._

She’s whining into his palm, her breathing loud through her nose and her eyes seem dreamy and far away. _This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? What you needed._

Her hands reach around to grip his ass firmly, pulling him back into her. Her command clear. _Fuck me._ _Now._

He starts a relentless rhythm, their bodies soon slick with sweat from the harsh movements. Its not sweet. It’s not romantic. It’s need and lust and…it’s _everything._

The only sound was of their combined moans and the wet slapping of flesh. His hand still over her mouth, stopping any real noise coming from her. Her eyes, no longer dreamy; were focused on him. _Too focused._

_That will just not do._

He pushes himself back from her, his cock slipping out of her and the strangled moan that escapes her fills him with a sense of smugness he hasn’t felt in centuries. She lays there panting, her eyes questioning him, _what are you doing?_

_This._

He shifts down, his jeans still bunched at his thighs hindering the grace with which he moves, till his face is hovering over her mound. She leans up on her elbows and just as his tongue lightly darts over her clit their eyes lock and her head falls back. He laves his attention on the small bundle of nerves, his stubble no doubt causing its own distraction. How good she tastes, the sweet musk filling his senses and he has to ground himself into the sofa, anything to get some friction. Her moans are coming thick and fast, he has to place his hand on her stomach to keep her from squirming away.

He knew he had always been good at this. He loved to watch women come apart like this; to be able to see them as they truly are when pleasure takes them. He moves his right hand and gently enters two fingers into her, never letting up the slow delicious torture of his tongue. Slowly circling and hooking his fingers until he feels the rough tissue placed just underneath her belly button and starts to rub. Her back bows of the sofa and the moan that comes out of her mouth is pure filth. Her hands grab fistfuls of his hair and she moves him now to where she needs him to be. His relentless tongue never stopping whilst his fingers never ceasing their endless circles inside her. He feels her stomach tense, the defined muscles bunching and contracting under her skin. _She’s close._

Her pace is relentless as she grinds onto his face. _How he loves this part_. Her body tightens, every muscle tensing, striving towards release and he can’t stop his moan as she pulls his hair roughly.

“ _Please...,”_ She begs him. A low guttural moan escapes his throat and she comes hard and fast, her juices spilling onto his face and he laps his tongue over the too sensitive flesh. She rides it out with delicious undulations and as she lets go of his hair she looks down at him. She looks recked. He can’t imagine what he must look like, his hair must be sticking up on ends with the ferocity of her pulls. He slowly withdraws his fingers and she closes her eyes and her head falls backwards, thudding softly on the sofa. Her breathing coming in harsh pants, and seemingly incoherent.

His erection is painfully hard, practically _dripping_ onto the soft cushions. She looks dreamily at him as he crawled back up her body, pressing their chests together he goes in for a lazy kiss and he savours the tang of her arousal still on his tongue as they slowly explore each other’s mouths.

The kiss soon turns heated and his cock comes to the forefront of his mind.

“I did this to you. Don’t forget it.” He says as he grabs cock and roughly ploughs into her wet heat again. The look of shock on her face quickly replaced by sheer need. Her eyes screwing shut with the force with which he’s fucking into her.

He sets a relentless pace, his own pleasure overriding the need to give her hers. She pants in-between kisses and all he can hear is her soft moans, his harsh grunts and the soft wet slapping of their flesh joining.

What a sight they would make to anyone who caught them.

He felt his control slipping, her hands were roaming over his back, in his hair, grabbing his ass, all holding on for dear life. He grabbed both her wrists in his hands and held both crossed over her head, pinning them with one hand. _Like on the boat._ He took his other hand and hooked her knee over his forearm, so she was pinned quite securely. The angle was delicious, pistoning into her as deeply as he could. He could tell he was hitting the glorious spot inside her, her eyes glassy and unfocused. _This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? Do not think. Just feel._

His hips battered against her the heat pooling at the base of his spine starting to drive him mad, chasing it as quickly as he could. Just when he thought he couldn’t hold off he felt her contract around his cock, her voiceless shout highlighted by the wordless ‘ _O’_ of her mouth. He couldn’t stop himself from coming even if he wanted to, he had to close his eyes against the intensity of it, his eyes flashing white behind his eyelids and the delicious feeling of emptying himself into her sweet cunt, all the while milking him through it. Filling her with his seed and his warmth, _and his love?_ He heard a howl, a painful strained noise and when he started to come back to his senses, he realised it must’ve been him that made it.

They stayed like that, his softening cock still inside her as he came to his senses with his face buried in the join of her neck, panting heavily against her sweat-slicked flesh. His hand straining against her wrists above her head He realised he must’ve hurt her when he came with the way she winced when he let her go.

She didn’t move her arms down; she simply lay there as he moved to sit up. When his cock slipped out of her, she made a small pleased noise. He sat up, her right leg draped across his lap, Fuck, he hadn’t even managed to get his fucking jeans off before blowing his load like some horny teenager?

He felt light-headed, the weight of everything suddenly barrelling down on him, he dragged his hand over his face in hopes of centring himself.

“What’s your name?”, She asks him, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Hmm?”, he barely has the energy to turn his head let alone respond with actual words.

“You don’t seem like a ‘ _Booker’_.” Everything about this woman is disarming. The way she looks the way she speaks, the way she feels, fuck, even the way she _tastes_. So, he really doesn’t think of the ramifications of his sex-hazed decision when he answers her simply and honestly.

“Sebastien. Sebastien Le Livre.”

“It suits you.” She smiles sweetly at him, and he smiles back at her. How wonderfully simple it all could be.

_How wonderfully, stupidly fucking simple._


	9. Nicky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I thought it was about time for an update. I’m going to try and update more regularly. Unfortunately life, work, family etc does eat up a lot of time but I am going to be off for a few days over the holidays and am looking forward to getting stuck into this story again. If you have just joined me, thank you.   
> If you have read before and have come back after seeing this has been updated, thank you.  
> Thank you, thank you, thank you.  
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Any comments and Kudos are always appreciated and, to be honest, I'm greedy to hear what you all think on how this is going for our little family.

Nicky

Copley had arrived late the next morning. Joe had been plastered to his back and he woke with his soft, deep breaths against the nape of his neck. Everyone had been in the kitchen; a breakfast was served. Violet’s brother was plating up an omelette, he assumed it would be for Violet. Booker was busying himself with the kettle.

_Had Booker been drinking less?_

Come to think of it he had only really seen him drink at dinner. Andy and Nile sat together at the large table, Andy had a black coffee and Nile a plate of eggs, toast and bacon. Andy wore her dark glasses, clearly feeling the effects of the vodka from last night.

Copley was sat at the end of the table, closest to the bookcase and Violet sat at the opposite end. Everyone acknowledged Nicky as he fetched himself a cup of tea and a small plate of fruit and toast and sat opposite Nile. Both of them sharing a small smile. Copley had a laptop in front of him along with a case to the side of his chair, a large, black case with silver catches. Similar to the one Nicky transports his sniper rifle in.

Nicky sensed the tension in the air, Violet eyeing Copley impatiently, as he was chewing a grape and silently asking Nile the question with his eyes, _What is going on?_

Booker came and sat next to Nicky, offering a cup of coffee to Violet. She took it immediately and sipped. Her patience clearly being pushed.

“You want to test me, Mr. Copley.” Violet stated as she sat back in her chair taking her cup with her.

“I merely want to ensure that the team knows exactly what they are in for.” Copley was trying to placate Violet; Nicky didn’t think she was the type of woman to be placated so easily.

“I’m confused,” Victor said as he approached the table with a plate, “You want to test her how?” He finished by placing the plate in front of Violet, offering her a fork which she took with a small smile.

Victor was wearing a plain t-shirt and some very worn in jeans, he made his way back to the kitchen counter to fetch himself a cup of coffee.

“It is a simple polygraph-“

“- A _lie detector..?”_ Victor interrupted incredulously. He gestured to Violet with his cup, “you want to test _her?_ On a _lie detector?”_ He spoke as if the idiocy of the idea should be obvious to everyone in the room. When he saw that no one else was in on his train of thought he turned to Violet, “They really have _no idea_ about you do they?”

Violet didn’t say anything, she and Victor shared a smile as they both sipped their coffees, it was the small smile of a private joke about to be shared. 

“Why is it such a ridiculous idea?” Nicky asked biting into his toast. Joe had mentioned to him lastnight as they curled around one another that Andromache though there was something that the woman was hiding. Perhaps she had decided to find out exactly what it was.

“She can beat a lie detector.” Victor replied, saying it slowly as though it was apparent.

“You can?” Nile asked, her interest piqued.

“It’s not difficult. Many people can do it. You could do it if you really wanted to learn how.” Violet responded.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Copley asked, testing the waters.

“You _don’t.”_ Violet’s smile would have been very pretty were it not for the unkind gleam in her eye. Nicky was very certain she didn’t like Copley. Hell, Nicky wasn’t even certain he liked him. Sure, Copley had opened their eyes to all the good they had done in the world, but he was also the source to a lot of their suffering. The effects of which are still prevalent. Joe has barely slept a full night through since Merrick.

Andy took her glasses off slowly, her eyes blinking and bleary in the bright morning light. “We know that there is something you aren’t telling us.”, She said.

“I suppose that makes two of us.” Violet replied.

They all share a tense look. Violets looks unblinkingly at them all. Nicky felt Booker move before he saw him. Violets left hand was curled around her cup and Booker moved his to lightly stroke over her knuckles with the back of his index finger. Curious. Violet softened under Bookers gaze as she released a breath Nicky doubted she knew she was holding.

Violet nodded ever so faintly at him and she turned back to Andy, “We can’t begin this way. As much as I admire the precautions,” She said gesturing towards Copley, “I’m afraid I have neither the time nor the patience for this.” She said with a finality that left little room for negotiation. She was about to get up from the table when Copley chimed in.

“Your husband was last seen in England, there is a reward for any information of the whereabout of your kidnappers.” He tapped something into his laptop and spun it around so they could all see the screen.

It was them.

The image was grainy. Clearly the security system from the yacht was not as sophisticated as the rest of it, which was strange, wasn’t it? The stills showed them all filing out of the master suite after Nicky had given Booker the laptop, each one of them a separate photo. Nicky, then Joe then Nile and finally Andy. As Copley tapped the arrow button, Nicky thought there was a deliberate pause when he pressed it for the final time. It showed Violet and Booker, Booker had his hands gripped on Violets arms and they were a hairs breadth from each other’s faces. It didn’t look like a kidnapping, it looked like a lovers’ embrace. _What must her husband have thought?_

Nicky noticed Victor staring at the screen. How awful it must be to be in love with such a woman, even if she is his sister, _technically_. Nicky was beyond caring about the trivialities of being related by marriage, who was he to judge. His love had slit his throat on their first meeting.

“There is also a reward for your safe return.” Copley added.

“How much am I worth, then?” Violet smirked.

“Fifteen million Euros.”

“I suppose now would be a good time to transfer you your payment, lest you all become money hungry and think to double-cross within a double-cross?” Both Violet and Andy shared a wry smile and both took a deep drink from their cups, neither breaking eye contact.

Booker leant over the table to bring the laptop to him, he and Violet staring at the screen. Booker began typing and within a few moments Violet took over. After a few moments she gave an exasperated grunt and stood up quickly headed for the front door.

“Violet?” Booker was out of his seat before she got two steps, grasping her elbow.

“It’s too slow.” As though that explained everything. “Come.” She took Bookers hand in hers and led him out the front door. Nicky stood just as everyone else did. Everyone headed outside, seeing Violet and Booker marching toward the large outbuildings to the east of the church.

_Poor Yusuf, he always sleeps soundly at the most inopportune times._

It wasn’t until Nicky approached with Nile and Andy in tow that he realised quite how large the buildings were, they must’ve been old, possibly converted stables. The pale aged stone probably older than him. Violet punched a code into the door handle and the large pale green door opened with a metallic beeping. _Alarmed_ , he thought. She flipped a switch and the room was flooded with harsh, cold light from overhead strip lights.

The room is long. The full space is open with bookshelves, again, filled to bursting at the very end with a large worn in leather sofa pushed against the back wall. To the left wall there was servers, he is sure, large black towers with lots of small lights flashing on and off. It looks like something out of the tv show star-trek that Joe used to love watching in the sixties.

There were three large computer screens, the size of modern televisions placed on the back wall, directly behind a large metal desk. Where several keyboards, and a mouse, rested. Violet dropped Bookers hand as she sat down on the small wooden librarian’s chair, she pressed a few keys and the screens came to life. Within seconds she had pulled the information she had clearly been seeking on Copley’s’ laptop, their photos, the listing of the reward, the IP addresses of everyone who looked at the advertisement. Because that’s what it was, an advertisement.

_Missing Woman, Kidnapping. Information wanted, Reward._

“Much better,” Violet muttered to herself. Copley had arrived just to be greeted with the wealth of information on the large screens. He took a moment to take in the set-up, the wall of servers to his left, large and imposing in the long narrow space.

“This is US Intelligence grade equipment…” Copley said to no one in particular.

“Is it?” Violet says, oh so innocently. Her eyes scanning the screens infront of her.

“How did you get this?” He made his way over to the left wall, his hand grazing over the cool metal and plastic reverently.

“How did I _get_ it?”, Violet repeated the question, clearly still peeved at Copley’s failed attempt at trying to win her over.

When Copley didn’t respond she paused her typing and looked at him with unconcealed distain. Nicky was impressed that he didn’t wither too much under her glare.

“You seem to be under the impression that I have stolen this equipment?”, She paused for a beat then continued, not really interested in his answer, “Have I given you the impression that I am a thief?”

Copley started at the venom placed behind her words. “I, uh..”

“If I _need_ something Mr. Copley, it is usually something that has not existed before.” She gets up from her chair and makes her way over to him, Nicky almost thinks that Copley will back up. “I do _not have to steal_.” She reminds Nicky of a lioness in that moment, the way she stalks up to him. “Because when I need something I do not have. I _make_ it.” Copley’s wide eyes stare at Violet, and even though there is a stark physical difference in Copley’s favour, Nicky thinks she seems about ten-feet tall.

“You made all this?” Andy gestures with her cup, pulling them both out of the moment. Deliberately killing the tension with a slurp of her coffee.

“Yeah,” agrees Nile, following Andy’s lead, “this is something you’d see in the Pentagon or Nasa, or…”

“The US _wishes_.” Violet replied, not _too_ conceited. Nicky could tell that Booker was impressed, his eyes alight with mirth and pride. Nicky has never been interested in the new technologies of the day. Sometimes to his detriment. He has seen where the gap in his knowledge can put him. Put Joe. Put his family.

_Perhaps it would be prudent to learn._

Violet looked at Copley, giving only a slightly dirty look and before he knew it she was back in her chair typing again, Nicky didn’t recognise what was on screen, it looked like a large chat-room or some kind but it was unlike anything he had seen.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“She’s looking for any and all information about us. Each one of these addresses is someone that has accessed her missing person notice. They could be anyone, assassins, bounty hunters, mercenaries. We can see all of them.” Booker replied, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Violet was focused on her task; like something possessed. Her fingers were typing faster than Nicky could ever dream of. He took a few steps forward and as he did the far left screen changed from lines of text to a map, pinpointing marks all over the globe, each one coming up with names, addresses, bank accounts, social security numbers, passport details. Everything that makes a person who he or she is was on the screen, next to their location. Nicky didn’t recognise any of the names, which was good. That means that it is unlikely that any of the unlucky souls that came after them knew who, or more importantly, _what_ they are.

“How are you doing this?” Copley asked in disbelief.

“It’s quite simple, I’m reverse searching all their details then using my program to disentangle the minutiae of their lives. I’m not finding what I’m looking for though…” Nicky thinks she almost sounds bored.

“What are you looking for?” Nile asks.

“Her husband.” Andy replies, bringing her coffee cup to her lips as she peers over her glasses.

“You’re searching for your husband?” Nile all but gasps.

“Yes. He’s looking for me. For _us._ The only way to ensure that we remain one step ahead is to know where he is.”

“I told you, he’s in England.”

“Not to be rude, Mr. Copley, but David is most certainly _not_ in England.”

“And you know this, how?”

“Because you _found_ him there.”

Nicky almost feels sorry for Copley in that moment.

She thinks for a second, her fingers stilling their incessant movement to turn and look directly at Copley. “Please do not misunderstand, Mr. Copley, David is not a stupid man. I would never have been able to stand him if he were.” She said. “If you found him in the thirteen or so hours it took you to get to this location, then he is most certainly looking to be found.”

“Why would he want that?” Nile voices, “Almost every government, cabal and underworld king-pin would want his head on a spike.” Nile states it, not so much looking for a response, as she crosses her arms over herself, as if cold, and Andy moves closer to her. Nicky thinks she would like to put her arm around her, but she stops herself. 

Copley moves to the right of Violet, she spins around in her chair to face the screens. “She makes a valid point, why would he want to be found?” Copley asks.

Violet pauses for a second, pressing some keys and a picture of her Husband comes to the forefront.

“Yes, why would you want me to find you…?” Violet mutters to herself. Her eyes focused and steadfast as she thinks. Nicky sees Bookers shoulders tense as he too stares at the picture of the man, how appropriate that the villain of this piece looks just the part. Nicky must admit, the black and white photo doesn’t really do him justice. Nicky remembers him from the apartment in Tangier but he recalls, his height, the gun plainly strapped to his side, the way he walked indicating a blade secured to his leg. _Typical Bad Guy._

The photo here looks just the part, though. He’s looking over his shoulder, Nicky thinks down the street to where he no doubt thinks he’s being followed. His broad shoulders, again clothed in the expensive pea-coat, his hair gelled, but strands falling over his eyes. His dark hair and eyebrows a staggering contrast to the lightness of his eyes, even in black and white you can tell they are striking. His strong jaw and aquiline nose giving him a regal and, to be perfectly honest, very sexy look. Quite frankly, Nicky could understand why Violet would be so taken with him. Even if he wasn’t to Nicky’s taste, he certainly could see the appeal. Pity he was such a bastard.

Violet makes a small exhalation, “Of course.” She collapses into the back of her chair, her wrists lightly resting on the edge of the desk. Her eyes don’t move from the photo.

“Of course, _what?”_ Booker asks. She drags her eyes from the photo to look at Booker.

“On the boat you only found _one_ laptop, correct?”

Booker nods, all of them coming to the realisation at once.

“I had two in Tangier.”

“He has your computer?” Nile asks.

“Yes.” Violet doesn’t turn, she’s too busy looking at Booker.

“How is that possible you didn’t remember until _just now_?” Booker's jaw tensed, as though he’s dreading the answer.

She hesitates, “I was… _distracted._ ”

“Distracted?”, Booker leans both his fists on the desk, his head hanging down, “How?”

“I was distracted by…” Violets voice is small, quiet and fragile, a stark difference to a few minutes ago. Nicky knows what she means, they all do. There’s no need to finish.

_I was distracted by you_. Judging by the look of awe on Bookers face Nicky suspects he feels exactly the same. 

Booker huffs out a breath, then a small disbelieving smile creeps across his face. He reaches for her face and cups her chin in his hands and kisses her. They kiss slow and serenely, as though they had all the time in the world. Violet reaches up and holds Bookers forearms, they kiss for a long moment more. Only to be pulled from it by a small cough from behind them all.

Nicky is confronted by Victor, followed closely behind by Joe, still sleep soft and bleary eyed. He must have woken up wondering where they all were. Where he was, and Nicky could kick himself for being so thoughtless.

Violet and Booker were no longer kissing, but Bookers hands were still firmly on her jaw. Victor looked forlorn, but recovered quickly, “Your friend was wondering where you all had got to.” He said, trying to sound nonplussed, “I’ll head to the farmhouse now and leave you to your business.” Without another word Victor walked past Joe and made his way down the drive towards his truck. When Nicky looked back he saw the way Violets eyes watched the empty space Victor had been standing, and also the way Booker’s eyes watched Violet.

“What have I missed, my heart?” Joe asked coming to stand beside him, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye. His sleep mussed hair so adorable it should be illegal.

“We can fill you in as we pack.” Violet answers in his stead.

“We’re packing?” Andy asks as Booker removes his hands from her face and shoves them into his pockets, before leaning his weight against the desk. He seems very relaxed around this woman.

“Yes, I feel like Luxembourg is lovely this time of year. There’s a grand ball held in the chambers of the crown prince to honour all the members of his cabinet. There will be aristocracy from all over the globe. It’s a perfect place to make connections. There will be many headhunters for global conglomerates. I think it would be a good place to start the next phase. Besides, the Grand Duke did say to stop by the next time I was in the country”

“I wasn’t aware there had even been an initial phase.” Nile’s tone drips with sarcasm.

“Grand Duke, huh?”, Booker says as he peers from behind his lashes.

“I have just accumulated all the information we need to whittle down the key players,” Violet replies, pointedly ignoring Bookers attempt and jealousy, “and also the headquarters, there’s really no point in staying any longer than necessary.” She turns and presses a few buttons on the keyboard and all the screens go black, before removing a memory stick from the side. She turns and walks towards Andy, all eyes on her. Nicky can feel the way Nile almost stiffens, readying herself for a fight. Nicky knows Andy notices it too. She stops less than an arm’s length away from her.

Nicky has never really noticed the height difference between them before. Andy towering a full head above Violet. Her warrior blood showing through all the countless centuries. The way they look at eachother, it reminds him of something, what, he cant exactly put his finger on. There’s a challenge in it, almost suspicion, but a hesitant… hope?

“There is a lot of important information on this.” Violet lifts her hand to offer Andy the memory stick, “This is my insurance policy, even if something happens to me this should be enough to bring enough of it down.”

Andy pushed her glasses up her head, her eyes bloodshot and the blue around the inside corner betraying how tired she must feel. “Why would you give this to me?”

“Because one of us has got to give, and something tells me it won’t be you.” Violet picks the memory stick out of her palm, pincering it between her index and middle finger, offering it like you would a business card. Andy takes the memory stick and passes it to Nile. “In truth, I don’t have the time to waste building trust.” She says as she passes them all, making her way back to the main house, “so, as I see it, the only way there can be assured trust is if there is assurance of mutual destruction.” She says over her shoulder.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Andy bit out, clearly her patience being pushed.

Violet stopped just beyond the threshold of the stable, she leaned casually against the doorframe. She cut quite the figure, her skintight black t-shirt and her worn in jeans. Nicky hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t been wearing shoes, her bare feet arched and pivoted one on top of the other as she glanced over their faces. Something akin to fondness crossed over her face then disappeared just as quickly as it came. 

“Oh, nothing really,” She said glancing down at her feet, a small smile playing on her lips. When she looked up again, she continued, “just the fact that you all seem to be immortal.” With that, she spun around and made her way along the path.

And just like that, all the breath seemed to leave Nicky’s body.


	10. Nile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!   
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. I've had a little wobble and I'll be honest I rewrote this thing like ten times. I'm currently halfway through the next chapter and its going to start getting a little more E from here on out.   
> Anyhoo...I hope you enjoy. It didnt turn out exactly as I wanted, but I'm excited for where the story is going, as I hope you are dearest reader.
> 
> As always I appreciate any comments/criticisms and/or questions. I love any and all feedback. gimme gimme gimme.
> 
> I hope you are all doing as best as you can in the current circumstances and are staying as safe as possible. I hope you all have a wonderful day, wherever you are.
> 
> Till next time!

Nile

_“You all seem to be immortal.”_

They all stood for a moment, seemingly dazed and staring into nothing. Nicky was looking at the empty doorway and Joe was looking from Nicky to Booker then finally landing on Andy. She stood staring, still clutching the memory stick, her hand squeezing it. The only thing betraying her calm exterior was the clench of her jaw and the whites of her knuckles as she squeezed around her cup.

“Andy?” Nile asked trying to get a reaction, some idea about what to do. Without even a look at her Andy turned to Booker and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, her quick movements knocking her sunglasses off and Bookers wide eyes connected with hers. He flinched as the cup shattered on the stone floor.

“What did you _do,_ Book?” She bit out through her teeth, her face an inch from his hands raised up to grab her forearms but he must’ve thought better of it because he just let them fall. He let out a shaking breath.

“I didn’t do anything Boss,” his words coming hard and fast, “I swear it.”

“Oh, _that’s_ rich!” Joe shouted, taking two steps towards where Andy had Booker pinned against the desk, Nicky quickly brought the flat of his palm against his chest to stop him going further, “The word of a fucking coward! If I had my gun I’d shoot you through your fucking head!”

Nile had never seen Joe like this, his usually soft and kind eyes now wild with anger. Nicky still had his palm on his chest. Joe was about to say something else but Nicky whispered something to him that made Joe blink a couple of times as if coming out of a trance. Breathing through his nose, nostrils flared trying to control himself.

Nicky slowly dropped his hand from his husband’s chest and turned to Booker. His eyes crystal clear in their rage. Nile knew that both Nicky and Joe were kind men, but out of the two of them it was Nicky you had to watch out for. Nile recalls something from her time at college, some bullshit literary assignment popping into her head unannounced, “ _beware the fury of a patient man”._

“Bullshit.” Andy pushed him away with disgust, “All of a sudden you are all over her and she _somehow_ knows. What did you tell her?”

Booker recovers himself, smoothing out his shirt. “I didn’t tell her anything.” Andy scoffs and turns from him, pacing with her hands on her hips. Nile thinks its so she doesn’t hit him.

Nicky takes a step towards Booker, his stare could cut through glass. Booker straightens himself to his full height so as not to be at a disadvantage. “If you did not say anything about us to her, what _exactly_ did you tell her?” Nicky’s voice is dangerously quiet. Nile has never heard him sound like that before. She’s starting to learn more and more about her new family, if she didn’t know any better she’d say Nicky’s face is almost serene. Bookers throat clicks with effort of trying to swallow. His eyes searching Nicky’s.

“I don’t know,” He shook his head, raking his hand through his hair. Nicky takes another step forward.

“Think.”

“I...“, He stutters, “She said something about my name, that it didn’t suit me or something.”

“Sì?” Nicky leans into him, Booker recoils automatically before catching himself. Compelling himself to stand his ground.

“I…”, Bookers eyes dart around the room, moving from face to face. Nile doesn’t know what he sees when he looks at hers but it makes him flinch. “I,” he says breathless, “told her my name.”

“Your name?” Nile asked incredulously, “That’s it?”

Copley moved towards them, having been silent all this time it was easy for Nile to almost forget he was there. “That was how I found out about you all.” Neither Nicky nor Booker turned, both content to simply stare at the other, “Le Livre isn’t exactly a common name, even in France. There’s only about forty or so registered and only four Sébastien Le Livre in all of Europe.”

“You told her your name.” Nicky summarised, “What else?”

“Nothing Nicolo, I swear. I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Not after-“Booker stopped himself.

“Not after the last time.” Nicky finishes for him. “Not after the last time you betrayed us. Got us strapped to beds being cut apart. I had to hear him _scream_ because of you, Sebastien.”

“Nicolo?” Joe’s voice is soft now. Trying to reach Nicky, to pull him back.

It does the trick, Nicky blinks a few times and gives Booker a hard look before turning back to his husband. Joe moves into Nicky’s space and they quietly push their foreheads together.

“You told her your name – that’s all?” Andy asks, her face is hard and she’s still clutching that fucking data stick. Looking down at it she moves it around her fingers.

“She was suspicious of us.” Bookers said tensing his jaw. “Of me.” Bookers swallowed around the words, forcing himself to speak, “She noticed that I didn’t have a bruise from where you shot me on the boat. She knew something was up, but I didn’t tell her. I didn’t, Boss. I _didn’t.”_ His voice cracking at the last word, did something to Nile. It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t lying.

This woman had the drop on them, she knew what they were. If not from the start at least since they arrived here. So, what was her game? Was this an elaborate trap? Did she know Merrick? Or Copley? Is that what this was, a trap? She had trusted Andy about this woman. She trusted her gut, she knew that Andy would never hurt them or put them in danger if it could be avoided. This woman comes out of fucking nowhere and suddenly upends their lives. Who the fuck did she think she is?! What does she want from them, is she some other maniac like fucking Merrick. Well, she’d be damned if she was going to wait another fucking second to find out.

“Okay”, Nile said taking a deep breath. “Fuck this.” And she turned and marched out the door and towards the house, or church or whatever the fuck it was.

* * *

When Nile entered through the door she saw Violet standing in front of the freezer, rummaging about inside, She pulled her gun from the back of her waistband as she saw Violet pulling out a small bottle of vodka. Violet held it in her hand for a moment before she turned and grabbed a small coffee cup from the draining board and went to take a seat at the table.

Nile was already only a few feet from her when Violet made eye contact with her, her gaze falling to the gun at her side. Violet placed the bottle and cup on the table and slid out the chair facing Nile, Violet slunk into the chair and twisted off the cap of the vodka. Her eyes only left Niles when she poured a couple of measures in the cup and placed the bottle next to it, very gently.

“Do you want to know the reason I hate Vodka?” Violet asks as she takes a small sip. “The way I am makes memories run almost simultaneously alongside the present. Like there’s two realities happening at once. I remember every time I have drank this, I remember every time I’ve tasted it inside my mouth. It sickens me to be honest. The memories of men’s tongues, reeking of this.” She lifts the bottle and inspects it.

What does this have to do with anything?

Nile decided in that moment that she was sick of this woman. Before she realised what she was doing she was aiming the weapon straight between Violets eyes. The adrenaline spiking in her blood, her head practically swimming with it. She had been trained that when it came time to end life, it was ultimately to protect and defend, not to kill out of cold blood.

This woman was a danger, wasn’t she? She knew about them. Or at least suspected. She was a danger to them. To Andy, she was mortal now. Vulnerable. She had to protect her.

“You know, after the second or third time,” Violet said as she took another sip and slumped back in her chair, her hand resting on the table, “your pointing a gun at my head is starting to lose its effect.”

_Oh, yeah?_

“Oh, yeah?” Nile aimed and pulled the trigger, the bullet whizzing past so closely to Violets head it made her hair sweep. The bullet collided with the kitchen tiles of the splash back. The noise of the shot echoing through the vast space, almost making Niles ears pitch with the sudden onset then loss of noise.

Violet didn’t flinch. Barely blinked.

“Feel better?”, She took another small sip and then poured herself another measure, “Got that out of your system?”

“That was a warning.” Nile said as she moved the aim back to squarely between her eyes.

“A _warning_?” Violet tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing as if struggling to understand, “a warning against what, _exactly?”_

Nile wanted to scream at her. What did she know? Did she mean it when she said about their immortality or was it hyperbole? _Fuck._

“It’s a shame really,” Violet continued as she screwed the lid onto the bottle, “Victor simply agonised over those tiles. He imported them; he has no spares to repair it.”

“I’m not interested in your _fucking_ tiles!” Nile shouted, her hands gripping her gun. She felt so on edge. Why was this woman so calm? The first time she had a gun fired at her was in basic training, she barely slept for a week afterwards. 

Just as she was about to voice these questions, she heard footfalls behind her, no doubt the others running to see what the gunfire was.

Booker was first, then Nicky, the others followed. Both Nicky and Booker had guns in their hands. They stopped as they came to stand next to her. Nickys cool eyes scanning her to make sure it wasn’t her that was being shot at. Booker made his way to Violet. Their eyes meeting and he turned to see the cracked ruined tiles on the back wall.

“What the hell happened?”, Booker asked.

“I’m not sure. Nile was warning me about something.” Violet took a drink of her vodka, her face wincing slightly as she swallowed, “You know I really do hate the taste of this, but it does the job.”

Andy came up and sat down across from her. She took the small bottle and took a giant drink and sat the bottle down. She placed the small flashdrive on the table between them.

Violet looked at the drive then to Andy, her face almost sweet. “Shall I tell you the reason why you won’t kill me, or would you like a chance to get to it on your own?”

Andy smiles around the mouthful of Vodka as she swallows, “Enlighten me.”

“I’m so used to being the smartest person in the room.” Violet sighs, “Its so fucking boring. Every conversation, every interaction is as mundane as brushing your teeth.” She says as she takes the bottle and pours another, much smaller measure, then offers Andy the bottle back.

“You have a high opinion of yourself.” Nile bites out.

“I don’t mean to.” Violet replies, “It’s just the way it is. Everything is so fucking dull.” She stops a moment, her eyes raking over all of them, Joe standing next to Copley behind Andy. Then to Nicky standing next to Nile. Finally she looked at Booker, like she had in the safehouse in Tangier, like she could see him, really see him. Andy’s face before she continues, “But all of you, are interesting.”

“Who, me?” Andy takes the bottle and takes another long drag out of the neck, “Nah, I’m just your average run of the mill mercenary looking for her next payday.” Andy finishes off by swiping the back of her hand across her mouth for added effect.

“Oh, yeah?” Violets smiles. A small and secret thing. Something that would seem demure on anyone else’s face. Violet slowly takes her right hand and pulls a small black remote from her bra cup, “What about this?” She says as she presses a button and they can all hear Andy’s voice being played back through speakers from every corner of the room.

“ _All of a sudden you are all over her and she somehow knows. What did you tell her_?”

The room is silent again.

Nile can feel the tension rolling off everyone. She’s recorded us since we’ve got here. What has she seen, what have the others said when they thought they were in the privacy of their own rooms.

“You recorded us.” Andy states. Violet nods once in response. “You’re going to erase everything you have on us.”, She’s not asking.

“Of course.” Violet takes the small remote and points it towards the bookshelves and presses a button. “There. All gone.”

“I’m still waiting on a reason not to kill you.”

“It’s very simple.” Violet glances down to her cup and slowly rolls her finger over the rim making slow circles, “There wouldn’t be any point.”

“How do you figure that?”, Nile knew Andy was weighing up her options. Deciding if she should just kill her and be done with this. They could go after Mitrovic on their own.

“Oh, I’m _already_ dying, you see.” There was a small smile on her face, before turning her gaze towards Nile, "It’s nothing against you, I’m sure you’re quite threatening. But I’m afraid it loses its lustre when you’ve made your peace with it.”

Nile felt Nicky and Joe look at each other behind her. Their thoughts already going to Merrick, same as hers. He wanted the key to their immortality, he said to heal the masses but of course he saw the potential. To harness whatever force kept them alive, the person who unlocked that could control the world. Is that what Violet wanted?

“Please don’t misconstrue, I have no interest in your abilities.” She said this as she looked from Andy’s face to Niles as though reading her mind. “I’ve barely been alive three decades, and I can assure you, its quite enough. Frankly, the thought of immortality just seems so…” She stops, searching for the right word.

“…horrifying.” Booker finished in a quiet voice. Violet looked at him and they shared a sad smile as she nodded slowly. Booker turned around, raking a hand over his face, making his way to the small bar by the fireplace to no doubt pour himself a drink.

“Your dying?” Nile asked, couldn’t stop herself if she tried.

“Hmm.” Nile thought that Violet was indulging her in that moment. It was probably the first time Violet had looked at her and saw something other than hostility.

“Brain tumour, isn’t that a kicker?” She smiled humourlessly, “It started slowly, as things often do. I would find myself somewhere and I would have no recollection of how I got there.”

“Blackouts?” Copley offered.

“They thought so, for a while. As far as I could tell I would just lose time.” Violet said as she got up and went to put her cup in the sink. “As time has gone on the space in between episodes has increased but the time I lose has increased also.” She turned and leaned against the sink, her arms folded, “Given the acceleration of the episodes and the deterioration in my frontal lobe, it’s been estimated I have a little over a year of complete lucidity.” She said matter of fact, moving back towards them. “That’s why it has to be now.” She leaned on the back of her vacated chair, “So when I tell you I don’t have the time to establish trust, I mean I _do not_ have the time.”

“That’s why you needed our help.” Andy said. Violet simply smiled in response.

“How did you figure it out?” Nicky asked, “About what we are.”

“It wasn’t that difficult, as I said I can do almost anything I put my mind to.” Motioning her head towards Nile, “You were the easiest to find.”

“Impossible, I _erased_ all her records.” Said Copley, disbelieving.

“Nothings ever really gone though, is it?” She stated, sitting down heavily in her chair, “Nile Freeman, born fifteenth of March nineteen ninety-four, St. Bernard’s Hospital, Chicago. Father, James Freeman, US Marines Corps killed in action September twenty-third, two thousand two-“

"Stop it,” Nile said through clenched teeth, her eyes screwing shut against the words.

“Mother, Letitia Mary Onahan. ‘Tisha to her friends. Never re-married after the death of her husband- “

"Shut up”, Nile warned, she squeezed the gun in her hand, the weight of it suddenly feeling like a lump of lead weighing her arm down.

“ - she engrossed herself in the lives of her children, determined to keep them on the right path. She was devastated when she heard of your going AWOL and ultimately the report that you were killed-in-action - ”

“Shut the fuck up…” Nile feels like she’s going to throw up.

_Don’t give her the satisfaction, Freeman._

“- Your brother spoke at your funeral, would you like to know what he said?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Nile screamed as she lunged over the table, her gun raised towards Violet. She was going to kill this fucking bitch. Who the fuck was she to talk about her family, her Father was a hero and this woman didn’t deserve to speak his fucking name!

Nile’s hand was around her throat and the muzzle of the gun was pressed to Violets temple. Nile vaguely heard the others screaming her name and the smashing of glass. Somebody’s hands were around her arms trying to pull her off the table. Nile barely felt it, the adrenaline giving her strength. All she could see was the look in Violets eyes, the serenity of them. The crystal blue showing intent that was crystal fucking clear.

_Do you see, now? What I can do?_

Nile could practically taste the bile forcing itself up her throat.

Through all the commotion Nile felt Violets throat vibrate, Nile felt the morbid curiosity take hold of her as she lessened the pressure on her throat. She wanted to know what this bitch had to say. Just as their eyes locked again Violet gritted out the words, “Enough of this shit.” Violet seized Niles hand and twisted the gun. Nile felt her fingers give way and the pain shooting up her arm as her fingers popped out of their sockets. Before she could think to shout out she was suddenly being flipped past Violets shoulder, Violets hand hooked onto the loop of Niles jeans and the other gripped like a vice under her shoulder. 

As Nile slammed onto the hard floor her skull smacked into the concrete, she had enough sense to register the pain in her hand subsiding before her vision whited out. When she came back to the room, she saw Violet standing over her, Niles gun in her right hand, Violet pressed the release and the clip fell to the floor.

“I don’t mean you or your team any harm.” Violet said as she started to dismantle the gun, “but, immortal or not,” she continued, letting the parts fall to the floor, “this is the last time you point a gun at me.” Violets hands went lax before crouching down in front of Nile, the barrel of Niles gun the only part still clutched in her hand.

Nile struggled to sit upright, her weight leaning on her hands. Niles vision became clearer by the second. She saw Violet look at her now miraculously healed hand. Whatever suspicions Violet had now momentously confirmed. “We have so much to do,” Violet softly said, “but when it’s done, if you still feel the same way, I’ll be ready and willing to see just how good you think you are.” Violet turned the barrel towards Nile, offering it like a businessman looking to secure a deal, like a handshake or a truce and Nile hated her for it.

Nile bit the inside of her cheek, if she’s being honest with herself her pride hurts more than anything else now. Nile gives her a small tight nod and takes what’s left of her piece. Violet accepts it for the tense respite that it is and gets up.

Nicky came to her side and helped her up, “Are you alright sorellina?” _She must’ve meant to throw me headfirst into the floor._ Nile doesn’t say it out loud, simply gives Nicky a small tight smile. Nile looks and sees Andy and Violet looking at each other. Both of them simply staring.

“We have to pack up, I want to be in Luxembourg by tomorrow night. There’s someone I need to speak to.”

“That doesn’t give us enough time to prepare.” Joe offers.

“Then we don’t really have the time to stand around debating, do we?”

Violet turns a little, seeing Nile out her peripheral, Violet says something to Andy too quiet and in another language. Andy glances at Nile, she looks sad.

“Lets pack up and get going.” Andy says, finality in her tone.

As the rest of the group disperse Nile sees Violet make her way over to Booker, his face drawn and tired. Before she gets to him she catches sight of Copley clearing up his laptop and metal case.

“Oh, Mr. Copley?”, Copley stopped what he’s doing but didn’t respond. Violet continued, “You had best bring your little machine. We’re going to need definitive answers.”

Nile followed Andy to their room to pack up their go bags. What the fuck was so important in Luxembourg anyway?


	11. Joe

Joe

They landed on an airstrip just outside Luxembourg City. They had packed in a hurry and Nicky had filled Joe in on what he had missed prior to Violet blowing their secret. Joe and Nicky had spoken in hushed tones, they had all in some form or another discussed killing her. Wouldn’t it simply solve the issue? There wasn’t a person alive besides Copley that knew about them.

She had declared a couple of hours after reaching their small flat that she was going for a walk. She looked like something sitting on the front row of a Paris fashion show. Booker had insisted he go with her and she very politely but firmly told him that she would be back in a couple of hours.

Joe and Nicky had looked at each other after she left, the way they can look at each other and know what the other is thinking. Nicky wanted to follow her, Joe knew, knew that the family didn’t trust her, especially after finding out she knows their secret. Nicky had the patience of a saint but out of the two of them, Joe was the better tracker. It was an old argument that turned into an old way for one to tease the other.

Joe followed her out the building. Her bright blonde hair and light beige trench coat making her easy to spot amongst the usual traffic. Her heels loud on the pavement. The summer was at its highest and the streets were filled with young tourists. Joe made sure to stay at least a block away from her. His leather bomber and sunglasses, providing enough camouflage should she turn around in a hurry.

After a few blocks she stopped at a little restaurant, a small terrace at the front roped off just back from the busy street. Joe crossed over and watched for a ways down the street, the sun was behind him and lit up the opposite side, the glare must’ve been too much for the small parasols dotted around the tables as Violet took out a small pair of sunglasses from her bag. She sat for about half an hour, slowly sipping on a glass of red wine. 

He saw her bask in the sunlight, tilting her head back to lap up the warm rays. She turned to get the waiters attention, ordering something and then going back to her nearly empty glass. The waiter arrived with a small plate of pastries, new wine glass and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm. As he set them down, rearranging the cutlery, Violet reached into her bag and pulled out a mobile phone. Joe hadn’t realised she had one? Realisation dawned on him; Booker must’ve given her _his_ burner.

_Fucking idiot._

As she brought it to her ear, Joe just about jumped out his skin when his own burner started vibrating in his pocket. As he picked it up, he couldn’t help the sigh he must’ve breathed down the phone.

“Well, are you going to stand there all afternoon, or are you going to join me?”

Fucking hell. Nicky would never let him live this down. After all the shit he’d given him this morning about being the better tracker.

They both hung up at the same time and he made his way over the busy street. As he approached the table Violet pushed out his chair with her foot and proceeded to pour him a glass of wine.

He sat down and took off his glasses, the sun was still behind him, so he didn’t need them. The heat of the rays at his back felt good. He took a deep drink from the glass. The smooth rich taste of the wine poured down his throat, he couldn’t stop the hum of satisfaction.

“It’s good isn’t it?” Violet said as she tore a piece of croissant of and put it in her mouth. It wasn’t really a question.

“1964 was a good year.” Joe replied. Violet smiled, content enough to chew on her pastry.

The silence stretched out between them, Violet seemingly taking in the thoroughfare. The young tourists taking photos for their Instagram’s and the tour guides talking a little too loudly to their paying guests.

Across the street was a small series of boutiques, some dealing in clothing, others in gifts. Marketing to this time of year. There was a small lone book shop. The kind where there was a rickety old table out front piled high with books. Above the door was a hanging sign, so common in years gone by. Underneath, hanging in the doorway was a sign that said ‘ _Open’._ Joe wondered idly if he should have a look for something for Nicky. He liked to bring him gifts, and Nicky had always loved to read.

“Did Booker send you?”

“Actually it was a toss up between Me or Nicky. I won.” Joe grinned and Violet scoffed into her wineglass.

“I love it here.” She said setting her glass down, “It’s like you can disappear inside the crowd and suddenly you don’t exist anymore. Best place to hide is in the open.”

“Why are we here?” Joe asked.

“What do you mean? Why are we here at this restaurant or why are we in Luxembourg?”

“Both.” Joe clarified.

“We’re here to speak to a man.” Violet said as her eyes wandered over the crowds passing by.

“What man?” Joe folded his arms and leaned onto the cool metal table.

“That man.” Violet said as she gestured across the street.

Joes eyes scanned across the road and noticed a man passing by with a large camera, offering to take tourists photographs, for a very reasonable fee, he’s sure. A shiver of anticipation shot up his spine and he made an effort to conceal his face with his hand as he gestured, “Who? Him?”

“No.” Violet gestured again, “ _Him._ ”, Joe finally saw the man in question.

He was rearranging books on the table outside of the bookshop. He must work there. The man was mid-thirties, tanned and skinny, he had a plain blue t shirt and wore fashionable chinos (the kind Nicky looks good in). His thick rimmed glasses accentuated his large nose. He had ruddy brown hair and seemed somewhat scruffy, Joe thought.

“Who is he?”

“ _He,_ is a person who owes me a favour.” Violet said as she picked up and drained the rest of her glass before gesturing to the waiter for the bill. It arrived in record time. _Good service._ Joe noticed Violets eyes trained on the door of the book shop.

“A favour?” Joe asked as he put down a few bills into the bill fold. Violet nodded. “What kind of favour?” They both stood and came to a stop on the kerbside. Violet wasn’t looking at him, she was looking inside the doorway. A couple exited the bookshop, wrapped up in each other and oblivious to their surroundings. Violet made her way across the road. Joe realised she was waiting for the shop to become empty.

Once they reached the other side, Joe grabbed her arm and pulled her into him. He had enough of this, “What the _fuck_ are we doing here?”

“We are here to do a bit of shopping.” Violet said breezily, “Don’t make a _scene._ ” She looked past him. Joe followed her gaze to his left and spotted them, two Grand Ducal Police Officers. Just as one of them made eye contact with Joe, he felt Violets arm curl around his and pull him towards the book shop, “ _Oh, look honey! We can get your Mother one of those cookbooks she likes.”_

She dragged him to the window, stopping just in front of the small table stacked with books. She started pretending to look through them, turning them this-way-and-that. “ _Do you think they’ll have more inside?”_ Violets voice was sweet, almost saccharine, but Joe noticed the way her eyes followed the two officers in the reflection of the window. Violet only let go of his arm once they had rounded the corner at the top of the block.

“If you insist on tailing me, might I suggest being a touch more discreet?”

Joe hated that she had a point, he had let his impatience get the better of him. Best to deflect, “Maybe you should tell me what the fuck we’re doing here, _Honey_?”

“I told you,” Violet eyed inside the shop, “we’re shopping.” She opened the door and went inside.

Well, if this is an ambush, better him rather than Nicky. _Here goes…_

As they entered the book shop Joe was comforted by the familiar smell of it. It smelled like their library back in Malta. Where Nicky would spend hours reading and translating. Especially in the early years before they met Andromache and Quynh. Hours, his Nicolo would spend combing over all scripture he thought would shed some light on what they were and what their great purpose was.

_How young they had been_.

Joe followed in behind Violet. They were the only patrons inside, Violet had timed it right. As the door closed behind Joe Violet passed back behind him and quickly turned the lock and flipped the sign around to ‘ _Closed_ ’ before pulling down the shade.

A friendly voice came from the back, behind a small curtain, “Everything is twenty-five percent off, my friends.” Joe thought he sounded friendly but looks can be deceiving. He was using the French dialect that they speak in this region. It was a sort of German-French hybrid. Nicky loved it. He thrived when he could practise new dialects and tongues. Joe had to admit, when they had first gotten together, Nicky was slow to learn new languages, but _my god¸_ was he thorough.

He recalled when Nicky was inside of him, pinning him to the slim straw mattress. Joe had been begging him, “ _please, please, harder...”_ in the Ligurian that Nicky himself had taught him. When Nicky had stopped moving, his laser focus the only thing that was holding Joe together, because he was sure if he didn’t start moving again he’d shatter. When he had stopped to _correct his grammar,_ Joe could’ve screamed; and did, if memory serves.

Fuck, he loves that man.

He was going to buy him a book, he decided. Possibly on different dialects that had come into use in recent years and they could discuss it. _Thoroughly_.

The place was all dark wood shelves and low amber lighting. A stark contrast to the bright summer afternoon outside. The wooden floor painted black and polished to a high shine.

Violet walked slowly along the aisle, her hand gliding along the spines before she stopped at the religious section. She took a large tome from the shelf and proceeded to skip through the pages. The guilt edges catching on the light shining from inside the stained-glass windows.

Her back was to the curtain as the man walked through carrying a book in each hand, “All non-fiction is buy one get one half-pri..”, he stopped mid-sentence, staring wild-eyed at the back of Violets head. She turned, closing the book and bringing it close to her chest.

“Hello Marcus.” She said in English, looking at him side on.

Marcus’ eyes went wide and panicked, darting from Joe to Violet. Everything stood still for a moment., “Oh my god.”, he breathed.

Violet took a step toward him, “ _Marcus.”_ She said cautiously, like she was speaking to a spooked deer. Which Joe supposed she was.

Marcus took a step back, “Oh my god…”

“ _Mar-cus…”, Violet warned_

_“_ No.” Marcus said as he shook his head, Violet took another step forward.

Marcus, who wasn’t really giving them the warm welcome Joe had hoped for, dropped the books he was holding. None of them registered the loud bang as they struck the floor. What a sin, to treat books thusly. Good thing Nicky isn’t here.

“Don’t run.” Violet cautioned.

The man didn’t seem to be in the listening mood.

As he turned to bolt to the back of the shop, Violet lifted the large book she held and hurled it towards the retreating man. The book collided with his back with a loud thud and the man collapsed to the floor. The groaning coming from him the only tell-tale sign that he was perhaps not uninjured, but at least conscious.

Joe had to admit he was impressed; he had been gearing himself up to give chase. Joe followed behind Violet, “Effective.” Joe said.

“My Father always said it was important to use one’s surroundings to one’s advantage.”

“Hmm..” Joe nodded in agreement.

Violet approached the squirming man, _Marcus_ , as he turned around to lay on his back, his face contorted in pain, panting out. “What the hell did you hit me with?” He groaned.

Violet leaned down and picked up the thick volume before turning the cover around, “The Bible.” She said brightly, “Do you have a moment to discuss our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ?”

Marcus cracked a smile, a huff of a laugh coming out quickly turned into a loud hacking cough. He scrambled to find his glasses that had dropped as he fell. Violet reached out a hand and Marcus took it, standing to his full height he was only a couple of inches taller than Violet. He took a moment to fix his glasses. Joe assumed he was checking that he was seeing things correctly with the way he squinted at Violet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Marcus wheezed, pulling an inhaler out of his pocket before sucking a blessed dose of air.

“Are you alright?” Violet asked, her hand going to Marcus’ shoulder.

“Yeah.”, Marcus nodded, “Although, a warning next time before you bludgeon me with the Holy Bible, would be nice.”

“Well, when the Holy Spirit takes hold...”, Violet smiled softly at him and Marcus smiled back, before pulling her into a bear hug.

“We thought you were dead.” His word were muffled by the corner of her neck.

“That seems to be a running theme.” Violet said before she pushed herself back, her hands resting on the mans shoulders.

“He with you?” Marcus asked, gesturing to Joe.

“I am.” Joe said, schooling his features into a not-so-kind look.

Marcus flinched a little under Joes stare, one he had perfected over the centuries.

“Pay him no mind, he’s only here to make sure I keep out of trouble.” Violet said, waving her hands in Joes direction. He realised it was to pull Marcus’ attention back to her. “Is that coffee I smell?”

Marcus nodded and made his way through to the back, Violet turned to Joe and whispered, “Whatever is said, go along with it.”

Joe nodded tightly and Violet turned and pushed aside the small green curtain that separated the bookstore and the small kitchenette. There was only two chairs around the small bistro table. The makeshift kitchen counters were made up of an old sideboard and a small square table that the kettle was perched on. Violet took one seat, facing Marcus as he clattered around for cups and spoons. She shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of the small chair. Marcus turned and offered Violet a black coffee before turning to Joe, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you take?”

“None for me.” Joe had been spiked, drugged and poisoned too many times to count. He and Nicky had made it a rule not to simply take a drink from a stranger if it could be helped. He moved behind Violet, crossing his arms over his chest. Best to try and look as intimidating as possible.

It worked.

When Marcus turned his throat visibly swallowed and he almost looked frozen in place.

“Sit down, Marcus. We don’t bite.” Violet said cheerfully.

“Sure.” Marcus huffed disbelievingly as he slumped down into the chair.

After a beat, both Marcus and Violet took a sip of coffee. The silence uncomfortable at best, Violet simply stared at Marcus. “You look good, Marcus.” Violet said.

“So do you, for a corpse.” Marcus replied brusquely. Violet huffed out a laugh and took another drink. Marcus smiled back.

“How is your back?” Violet asked, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Sore.”

“I did tell you not to run.”

Marcus scoffed into his coffee, nearly choking on it. “You’re supposed to be dead! How would you react if a ghost stood on your doorstep and said ‘ _Hello’?”_ He exaggerated the ridiculousness of it by twiddling his fingers in the air in mock greeting.

“Hm.” Violet smiled, “Fair point. I’m sorry.” Joe thought she sounded as sincere as he had ever heard her.

Marcus let out a long sigh, “You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you.” Violet whispered back. They both smiled at each other.

Joe saw a shadow cross Marcus’ face, the smiled faded and what replaced it was a look of concern, “Where have you been?”

“I can’t tell you.” Violet shook her head.

“What are you doing in Luxembourg?”

“I can’t tell you that, either.”

Marcus dragged a tired hand down his face and gave her a hard look, “You are very frustrating.”

“You and my Mother would have gotten on famously.” Violet teased. Marcus barked out a laugh and Violet smiled, seemingly pleased with his reaction. “It’s _really_ good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too.” He took hold of her hand from across the table and squeezed. They sat in a meaningful silence, just staring at each other. Marcus sighed, a long slow breath, he seemed to be gearing himself up for something.

“Now comes the important question, you wouldn’t just show up for no reason. Coming back from the dead, well, that can only mean you need something.” Marcus grazed his finger across her knuckles, “So…what do you need?” Marcus asked eventually.

“I need your help.”

“You have it Vi, anything you need you know Julien and I will help no matter what.”

Violet pulled her hands away, joining them together in her lap.

“You can’t tell him I’m here.” Violet shook her head, “You can’t tell anyone. You don’t _want_ to tell anyone. _Especially_ Julien.” Violets warning made Marcus’ eyes widen slightly. He dared a look at Joe, Joe didn’t give him anything. Violet said to go along with it, best to do just that until Joe actually figures out what the fuck is going on.

Marcus frowned and pulled his hand back, as though sensing he wouldn’t like what was to come next. “What are you talking about?”

“I need supplies. Supplies that only you can get for me.”

Marcus’ eyes widened and he looked nervously to Joe who had been quietly holding his breath as he listened to this conversation.

Marcus’ voice was barely a whisper, “I don’t do that anymore. Not since Julien and I got together.”

“I know.” Violet nodded solemnly, “I know, and I wouldn’t ask under normal circumstances. You are the best at what you do, and you are the only person I trust with this.”

Marcus pushed his chair back and darted up from his seat. His hand on his hip and the other wiping down his face. Joe realised it was a nervous tick.

“If I do this, I’d be breaking a promise I made to my _husband._ ” Marcus said as he turned back to face them both.

“Yes.”

Marcus sat back in his chair; his eyes glassy as he sat chewing the inside of his cheek. Violet didn’t flinch. No one moved. Joe was poising himself to catch him if he ran.

“If I do this. _If_.” Marcus stressed, “I can’t have this come back on us. On Julien.”

“I don’t want that. That’s why I can’t tell you anything.”

Marcus took a beat, then continued, “What is it you need, _exactly?”_

“Communications mainly, tracers.”, Violet said, Joe thought she sounded relieved, “I’ll need seven units. Biotech preferably. I need them to be undetectable.”

Marcus nods once, “You have a list?”

Violet reaches down and pulls a small piece of paper from her bag and slides it across the table. Marcus unfolds it, his eyes scanning the paper quickly and scoffs, “ _Biotech_? Polymer firearms. What are you planning, Vi?”

“Ask no questions, hear no lies.” Violets states simply.

What the fuck did Biotech mean? Like biology? And Polymer, that was like a plastic, right? Some of the confusion Joe felt must’ve shown on his face because Marcus looked at him with what could only be suspicion.

“What did you say your friends name was?”

“I didn’t.” Violet said without missing a beat, “His name is Idris.”

Joe didn’t think he looked like an Idris, but he had been called worse.

Violet continued, “I need it for the day after tomorrow. My number is on the slip. When you’ve finished, ring the number three times. I’ll text back with a time and location.”

“You expect me to use my own phone?”

“I expect you to use one of your many burners that, I suspect, you still have stashed under the floorboards of your bedroom.”

Marcus nods, “Two days.”

Violet stood and slung her coat over the crook of her elbow along with her bag, “Two days, no later.” As she made her way to leave Marcus reached across the table and grabbed her by the wrist.

“After this, we’re done.”

“After this, you’ll never hear from me again.” Violet solemnly agreed, “After this, we’re even.”

“Everything’s different now.” Marcus’ eyes were swimming with unshed tears, “I _can’t_ risk him.”,

“Nor should you,”, Violets voice has a waver to it that she quickly clears her throat, “I have always thought he was _far_ too good for you…” She finishes, none too sarcastically. Marcus lets go of her wrist and instead grabs hold of her hand in a vice grip, both of their knuckles paling with the pressure. They stand there for a moment.

“Alright then.” Violet says finally then leaves through the curtain. Joe followed after.

Neither of them said a word until they are a few blocks away. Violet had put her large sunglasses on and Joe had followed suit.

It was Violet who broke the silence.

“I would appreciate it, if you would keep Marcus and his location to yourself.”

“He didn’t seem like someone who deals in firearms.” Joe kept his head up, scanning the street ahead. Wondering if they should switch up their route in case they are being followed.

“He doesn’t.”

“What was it you asked him for?”

“Things that will help us. Help you, for what’s to come.”

“…And that would be…?”, Joe strode on for a couple of steps then turned back when he realised Violet wasn’t beside him. “What is it?”

“I think we’re being followed.” She said, pretending to look for something in her bag. Joe’s eyes darted behind her, careful not to move his head. He was glad that they had both put on their sunglasses to hide their eyes. After a moment she pulled out a small compact mirror, opening it she pretended to check her lipstick, “Across the street, half a block behind us. They stopped at the small news stall; do you see them?”

Joe did.

Down the street stood two, rather large men. They both wore flat-caps and long, black leather coats. Not the fashionable kind, either. The kind that seemed out of place. The kind you would wear to conceal a gun, and a big one at that. They were doing a poor job of looking like they _weren’t_ looking at them. Making a show of trying to decide what magazine, stealing too many too-obvious glances their way.

_Fucking amateurs._

Violet sighed and put away her mirror, she moved her bag to her other shoulder and took hold of Joes arm, spinning him around. “About five blocks up there is a series of warehouses, there’s a lot of places to hide and not nearly as much CCTV to contend with.” They picked up the pace, eager to get away from the public.

They crossed over the street a couple of times, zig-zagging their way along the main strip, like tourists would. They didn’t lose them, by the third time they did it any doubts Joe felt about them actually following them were quashed.

Once the buildings started looking a little more industrial and less multi-coloured, they almost sprinted around a corner in hopes of buying themselves a bit of time.

It was a small alleyway, closed off on three sides. Which was a good thing on one hand, no one could sneak up on them, on the other they would be trapped should something go wrong.

Joe moved to take the corner, so he could sneak a glance and find out if they were following them. Violet didn’t move, instead she got out her compact, crouched down and angled it round the corner so se could see down the street. She peeked and looked up at Joe and whispered, “They’re coming. Fifteen seconds or so.”

Violet stood, put her bag down and dropped her sunglasses into it. She took off her trench and stripped the belt out from the loops. Joe pulled his gun from his waistband and readied himself. He watched as Violet wrapped the belt around her hands, bringing the strip of fabric taught between her fists.

They heard the footfalls and some mumbling hushed words. Joe could’ve swore he heard fabric rustling and the unmistakable sound of bullets being loaded in a chamber.

She locked eyes with Joe, she heard it too. Readying themselves for what was surely to be a fight.

The first of them came around the corner too fast, too eager for what he had planned, the gun, a sawn-off shotgun, was pointed at Joe. He was standing in his direct line of sight. Before the son-of-a-whore could utter a word, Violet wrapped the belt around the Thugs hand, pulling it sharply to the side before the shot wrung out. The brick behind him exploded and the pieces flew out across the back of his head and back. He dodged his head, which would’ve been too late and his glasses flew off as the Joe’s ears rung with sound. The second guy, _Thug No.2_ rushed around the corner after his friend so fast his hat whipped off.

This one only had a handgun. _Easy._

_Thug no.2_ shouted _, “Pusti to!_

Joe feigned fear, Thug No.2’s eyes darted to the side where they both saw Violet kick No.1’s knee so hard _Joe_ felt it. Joe used the distraction. _Rookie mistake_. Joe shot him through the eyes before he could even register what was happening. The red mist painted the brick on the opposite wall. The sorry excuse crumpled to the ground. His dazed empty eyes staring in what could only be described as bewilderment.

Joe turned he saw Violet latched onto the back of Thug No.1. He was scrambling to get her off his back, the poor bastard was still struggling to get back up off his knees. They were struggling so much that Joe couldn’t get a clear enough shot, he might hit Violet.

_Would that be such a bad thing? She had just stopped him for getting his head blown off. It seemed impolite, at best._

That would take a hot minute to come back from. He had been shot in the head more times than he’d had hot meals and he would rather forgo the experience if he could help it. It’s not so much the going, it’s the coming back.

Violet twisted and she was suddenly facing Joe. Her hands clenched over her left shoulder, hanging onto the belt that Joe realised now was wrapped around Thug No.1’s neck. Her face was severe and very pissed off as she gave a hard grunt and pulled down hard with as much downward force as she could muster.

When Joe heard a very distinct _‘Snap’._ Thug No.1 folded like a cheap fan.

Violet knelt on the ground for a few moments, one hand perching her up before she got up on shaky legs.

“Are you alright?” Joe asked, putting his gun back into his waistband and searching around for his glasses, which were remarkably unscathed.

“Yes.” Violet nodded, unravelling the belt from around the assholes neck, still trying to catch her breath, “You?”

Joe nodded and gave a blithe shrug, before wiping them on his shirt and putting them on. What could happen to me?

_You could die,_ he thought. _You could die and not come back. You could die and Nicky would be alone._

Violet made her way past him, shaking the old dark thoughts from his head, she shrugged on her coat and re-tied the belt around it. When she bent and picked up her bag with a groan, she caught Joes look of concern and said, “Heels were _not_ a wise choice. My feet are _killing_ me.” She winced as she said it.

Joe sniggered as he peaked around the corner, looking down the street and upwards towards the corners of the buildings. Violet joined him a moment later.

“I can’t see any camera’s, but we can’t guarantee no one heard the shots.”

Joe agreed, “Best get out of dodge.”

Violet nodded and they both made their way back down the main drag. Careful not to walk _too_ quickly.

After two blocks they heard sirens and shared a conspiratorial look, before Joe turned them down another street, four blocks and one over from the safehouse. Better to be safe than sorry.

After a few minutes silence, the sirens getting further and further away, Joe realised she had saved him. Sure he didn’t really _need_ saving, but she had. She stepped into the line of fire, or at least redirected it.

“Thank you.” Joe said, unprompted. So unprompted that Violet looked at him with a touch of confusion. “For... _you know.”_ He clarified as best he could while being in public.

Realisation dawned on her and she looked down at her shoes, almost shy, “It was nothing.” After a few moments she continued, “Thank _you.”_

_Huh?_ “For what?”, Joe asked, confused.

“For _not_ shooting _me_.”

“Ah.” He said, pushing his hands into his pockets, “Don’t mention it. If I had been _Nile…”_

Violet laughed outloud, an honest to goodness laugh, “Oh, I’d be lying dead in that alley. _One hundred percent_.”, She said playfully.

“You don’t really make it easy, you know?” Joe offered.

“I know.” She agreed. A tad resigned to it, Joe thought, “But…there’s _so_ much more at stake than worrying about if someone likes me, or indeed if I like _them._ ”

“Ah, she’s young, protective. She’ll… _come around_.” Joe was unsure about it as he said it. Nile was glorious in her kindness and her grace, but she’s a tough nut. They were less than a hundred metres from the flat now.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s time enough in all the world for that to happen.”

They were at the door to the building now, Violet pressed the buzzer to the flat four times and after a moment the door clicked open. “I think it would take me stopping a bullet for her to convince her I’m not the _actual_ devil incarnate.”

“The Devil…? I would say… _prickly_.” Joe grinned and Violet laughed again. Joe really was dreading telling the others what happened. After all his bullshit about maintaining a low-profile.

_Urgh._

Nicky would never let him live this down.


End file.
